Cilass 




Book lAi 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 



LIFE OF 
PATRICK HENRY 



BY 



ALEXANDER H. EVERETT, LL.D. 



Uf 



*^ A 



MAKERS OF 
AMERICAN 
H ISTOR Y 

PATRICK HENRY 

BY 

ALEXANDER H. EVERETT 

GENERAL GREENE 

GENERAL LAFAYETTE 

GENERAL MARION 

BY 

WILLIAM T. HEADLEY 



THE UNIVERSITY SOCIETY 

INCORPORATED 

NEW YORK 1904 






THE LIBRARY OF 

CONGRESS, 
One Copy RECEfVEo 

DEC. 1904 

CoPVWOm- FNTW 

CLASS <^XXa No. 
COPY 8. 



CoFYRi'GHT, I904 
BY 

The University Society, i] 



PATRICK HENRY 



CHAPTER I 



iirth and Parentage. — Education. — Commences Business as a 
Merchant. — Fails, and attempts Agriculture. — Second un- 
successful Attempt in Trade.— Marriage.— Admitted to the 
Bar. 

Patrick Henry is in more than in one particular 
among the most remarkable characters of the Revo- 
lutionary period of our country. He is declared by 
Jefferson to have been *' the greatest orator that ever 
lived," and " the person who, beyond all question, 
gave the first impulse to the movement which ter- 
minated in the Revolution." Whatever exaggera- 
tion, if any, may be supposed to have crept into these 
sweeping statements, it is certain that the merits and 
services which had power to call them forth from 
such a quarter must have been of no ordinary kind. 

Indeed, the accounts that have been transmitted to 
us of the actual effects of his eloquence upon the 
minds of his hearers, though resting apparently on 
the best authority, seem almost fabulous, and cer- 
tainly surpass any that we have on record of the 
results produced by the most distinguished orators 
of ancient or modern Europe. Something must 

7 



8 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

probably be allowed for the excited imagination of 
the authors of these accounts; but the necessity for 
making this allowance proves, of itself, the extent to 
w^hich Henry possessed what may be regarded as the 
essence of the highest kind of eloquence, together 
with the power of strongly exciting the imagination 
of his hearers. 

His claim to the honor of having given the first 
impulse to the Revolutionary movement, is a ques- 
tion hardly susceptible of a satisfactory solution, 
since no event, prior to the battle of Lexington and 
the Declaration of Independence, was so decidedly 
different in character from a variety of others occur- 
ring at about the same time, as to merit, in contra- 
distinction to them, the praise of being the first step 
in the progress of the Revolution. It is certain, 
however, that, in one of the two leading colonies, 
during the period immediately preceding the Revolu- 
tion, Henry was constantly in advance of the most 
ardent patriots, and that he suggested and carried 
into effect, by his immediate personal influence, 
measures that were opposed as premature and vio- 
lent by all the other eminent supporters of the cause 
of Liberty. It was the good-fortune of Henry to 
enjoy, during his lifetime, the appropriate reward 
of his extraordinary meritsi, and the almost un- 
bounded admiration and respect of his countrymen. 

By general acknowledgment, the greatest orator 
of his day ; elevated by his transcendent talents to a 
sort of supremacy in the deliberative assemblies of 
which he was occasionally a member, and the courts 
of justice in which he exercised his profession; 



PATRICK HENRY 9 

clothed, whenever he chose to accept them, with the 
highest executive functions in the gift of the people ; 
happy in his domestic relations and private circum- 
stances, — his career was one of almost unbroken 
prosperity. He has also been eminently fortunate 
in the manner in which the history of his life has 
been written. While the recollection of his elo- 
quence and the admiration of his character were 
still fresh in the minds of numerous surviving con- 
temporaries, the task of collecting and recording the 
expressions of them, which were circulating in con- 
versation, or merely ephemeral notes, was under- 
taken by one whose kindred eloquence and virtues 
rendered him on every account the fittest person to 
do justice to the subject. In the following sketch, 
I can claim little other merit, than that of condens- 
ing, with perhaps some few not very important mod- 
ifications and additions, the glowing biography of 
Wirt. 

The gifted author is represented, on the same high 
authority alluded to above, that of Jefferson, as 
having been at times led by the enthusiasm with 
which he entered into his subject to the verge of 
fiction. Let us also apply to his work the title which 
the great German poet, Goethe, prefixed to his own 
Autobiography, — Poetry and Truth. The narra- 
tive carries with it unquestionable evidence of au- 
thenticity, as well in the known character of the 
writer as in the authorities that are cited in support 
of every important statement, while it is written 
with so much warmth and elegance that it possesses 
throughout all the charm of poetry, and perhaps pro- 



lO AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

duces, at times, a similar illusion. Although some 
few passages are a little too-highly colored for the 
eye of good-taste, there are few persons of eminence 
who, after reading the whole, would not feel the 
wish which Queen Katharine, in the play, expressed 
in regard to her attendant, Griffith, that they might 
find themselves as fond and faithful a chronicler. 

The family of Patrick Henry was of Scottish 
origin. His father, John Henry, was a native of 
Aberdeen ; and he numbered among his family con- 
nections some of the distinguished literary men of 
the day, having been a nephew, in the maternal line, 
to the historian Robertson, and cousin to David 
Henry, the brother-in-law to Edward Cave, and his 
successor in the conduct of the Gentleman's Maga- 
zine. John Henry emigrated to Virginia some time 
before the year 1730. He is said to have enjoyed 
the friendship and patronage of Dinwiddie, after- 
wards governor of the colony, who introduced him 
to the elder Colonel Syme, of Hanover County. In 
the family of the latter, Henry become domesticated, 
and, after the death of the colonel, married his 
widow and resided on the estate. He appears to 
have enjoyed much consideration among his fellow- 
citizens, having been colonel of his regiment, prin- 
cipal surveyor of the county, and, for many years, 
presiding magistrate of the county court. Some 
years after his emigration, his brother Patrick, a 
clergyman of the Church of England, followed him 
to Virginia, and became, by his influence, minister 
of St. Paul's parish in Hanover, a place which he 
filled through life with high distinction. Both 



PATRICK HENRY II 

brothers were conspicuous for their loyalty to the 
king and their attachment to the church. 

The widow of Colonel Syme, who became, as has 
been said, the wife of John Henry and the mother 
of Patrick, was a native of Hanover County, and a 
daughter of the family of Winston, one of the most 
respectable in the colony. So far as the eloquence 
of Patrick Henry may be supposed to have been in 
any degree hereditary, it seems to have been trans- 
mitted to him through the maternal line. His mother 
is represented as having been remarkable for a fluent 
and easy elocution, and her brother. Judge Winston, 
was declared by a contemporary, who knew him 
well, to have been the greatest orator whom he had 
ever heard, Patrick Henry alone excepted. When 
the militia of Virginia were ordered, soon after 
Braddock's defeat, to the frontiers, the company to 
which Winston belonged, and of which he was lieu- 
tenant, were so much disheartened by the severity 
of the service that they were on the point of break- 
ing out into mutiny, when Winston, by a well-timed 
stump speech, succeeded in restoring order and in- 
spired them with so much enthusiasm that they 
called upon their officers to lead them at once against 
the enemy. 

It appears from these statements that the family 
of Patrick Henry was among the most distinguished 
in the colony. He was the second of nine chiMren, 
and was born on the 29th of May, 1736, at the 
family seat in Hanover County, called Studley. His 
father removed,, not long after, to another seat in 
the same county, then called Mount Brilliant, and 



12 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

now the Retreat; and it was here that Patrick was 
educated. The family, though evidently in easy cir- 
cumstances, does not seem to have been wealthy. 
The father had opened a grammar school in his own 
house; and Patrick, after having acquired the ele- 
ments of learning at an infant school in the neigh- 
borhood, was taken home, at ten years of age, to 
continue his studies. Under his father's tuition, he 
obtained some little smattering of the Latin lan- 
guage and of mathematics. He had no inclination 
whatever for book learning. As the discipline of 
such a school was not likely to be severe, he seems 
to have indulged, without much restraint, his taste 
for rural sports and solitary rambles through the 
neighboring fields and forests. iVt this period, he 
showed no sign of the high intellectual qualities for 
which he was afterwards distinguished. His per- 
sonal appearance and manners were coarse and awk- 
ward, his dress neglected, and his faculties entirely 
obscured by habitual indolence. In mixed company 
he contributed little or nothing to the conversation, 
but is said to have listened with attention, and to 
have been able afterwards to repeat much of what 
had been said, with intelligent comments on the 
characters of the speakers. This is the only particu- 
lar in his youthful habits that has since been recol- 
lected as having indicated in any degree his future 
superiority. 

Finding him wholly indisposed for literary and 
professional pursuits, his father undertook to estab- 
lish him in trade ; and, after placing him for a year 
in the counting-room of a neighboring merchant, 



PATRICK HENRY 1 3 

furnished him and his brother WilHam with a small 
capital, upon which they commenced business. Wil- 
liam, it seems, was still more indolent than his 
brother; so that the management of the common 
concern devolved chiefly upon Patrick, who dis- 
played as little aptitude for mercantile affairs as he 
had previously done for study. The confinement 
which this employment rendered necessary was irk- 
some to him ; and, although he was afterwards re- 
marked for a rather thrifty disposition in his pecu- 
niary affairs, the consequence, probably, of early em- 
barrassments, he exhibited at this time an easiness 
of temper, and a negligence in making his bargains, 
which were not favorable to the success of the enter- 
prise. Compelled to relinquish his habitual sports, 
he resorted, as a substitute for them, to music, and 
learned to play upon the violin and the flute. 

He also began, for the first time, to show some 
taste for reading; and exhibited, with increasing dis- 
tinctness, the talent for nice observation of charac- 
ter which he had shown in his childhood. He en- 
couraged his customers, when they met in his shop, 
to discuss questions which he suggested for their 
consideration; and, without taking much part him- 
self in the debate, derived his principal amusement 
from comparing their habits of thought and action, 
as developed in the course of their respective re- 
marks. At other timesi. he entertained them by nar- 
ratives gathered from his miscellaneous reading, or 
framed by himself for the purpose. In these intel- 
lectual exercises we begin to perceive the first dawn- 
ing of the brilliant talents by which, in after-years, 



14 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

he SO often entranced his audience. They seem, 
however, to have had no very favorable effect upon 
the success of his enterprise, which, after the experi- 
ment of a year, proved a faihu-e. WiUiam retired 
at once from the concern, while Patrick was em- 
ployed for two or three years afterwards in bringing 
it to a close as well as he could. In the meantime, 
at the age of eighteen, he had married Miss Shelton, 
the daughter of a neighboring farmer, of excellent 
character, but of narrow worldly fortune. 

Unsuccessful alike in letters and in trade, the fu- 
ture orator, or more probably his friends for him, 
now directed his attention to agriculture. By the 
joint aid of the two families the newly-married 
couple were placed upon a small farm, from which, 
with the aid of one or two slaves, with whom they 
were also provided, they were to draw by the sweat 
of their brows the means of subsistence. But the 
indolent habits, and aversion to systematic labor of 
any kind, which had occasioned the failure of his 
former attempts to effect a permanent establishment 
were equally fatal to this. After an experiment of 
two years, he abandoned the farm, sold his property 
at a loss for cash, invested the proceeds in merchan- 
dise, and once more attempted fortune in the lottery 
of trade. In resuming his business as a merchant, 
he also resumed his former habits of conducting it. 
He employed, 'as before, a large portion of his time 
in conversation with his customers, or in music and 
light reading; and he frequently closed his ware- 
house for the purpose of pursuing his favorite recre- 
ations in the open air. Thus conducted, it is not 



PATRICK HENRY 1 5 

very singular that, after another two years' trial, the 
second experiment in trade ended, like the former, 
in bankruptcy. 

The position of Henry, in a worldly view, was now 
sufficiently embarrassing. He had lost all his lit- 
tle property, and had no capacity for supporting his 
family by any of the usual professions. His con- 
nections had done all they could for him. A feebler 
mind would have probably sunk under this com- 
plication of difficulties. Henry, far from being in 
any degree discouraged, was roused by it to the exer- 
tions which alone were necessary to the development 
of his splendid powers. Possessed, as he was at this 
time, by an unconquerable passion for amusement, 
probably nothing but absolute necessity of the most 
urgent kind could have furnished the spur that was 
wanting to his success ; so that he might afterwards 
have said, with great propriety, in the words of an 
ancient, " I should have been ruined, if I had not 
been ruined." His biographers do not, however, 
appear to have appreciated his character with perfect 
correctness, when they attribute these repeated fail- 
ures, in his attempts in business of different kinds, 
to mere indolence. His mind was not deficient in a 
principle of activity, but at this period it took ex- 
clusively the direction of amusement. The indis- 
pensable necessity of pursuing, with steady industry, 
the substantial objects of life, had not yet been 
brought home to him, and he yielded without resist- 
ance to the promptings of his naturally exuberant 
animal spirits. Even at the lowest ebb of his world- 
ly fortunes, his disposition for sport and pleasantry 



l6 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

remained unimpaired. Mr. Jefferson saw him for 
the first time at this period, and afterwards gave, in 
a letter to Mr. Wirt, the following account of his 
appearance and manners. Henry was then twenty- 
four years of age. 

" My acquaintance with Mr. Henry commenced 
in the year 1759-60. On my way to college, I 
passed the Christmas holidays at Colonel Dan- 
dridge's, in Hanover, to whom Mr. Henry was a 
near neighbor. During the festivity of the season, 
I met him in society every day, and we became well- 
acquainted, although I was much his junior, being 
then in my seventeenth year, and he a married man. 
His manners had something of coarseness in them ; 
his passion was music, dancing, and pleasantry. He 
excelled in the last, and it attached every one to him. 
You ask some account of his mind and information 
at this period; but you will recollect that we were 
almost continually engaged in the usual revelries of 
the season. The occasion, perhaps, as much as his 
idle disposition, prevented his engaging in any con- 
versation which might give the measure of his mind 
or information. Opportunity was not, indeed, 
wholly wanting, because Mr. John Campbell was 
there, who had married Mrs. Spotswood, the sister 
of Colonel Dandridge. He was a man of science, 
and often introduced conversation on scientific sub- 
jects. Mr. Henry had, a little before, broken up his 
store, or rather it had broken him up; but his mis- 
fortunes were not to be traced either in his coun- 
tenance or his conduct." 

But though the absorbing passion for pleasure, 



PATRICK HENRY 1 7 

which at this time formed the distinguishing charac- 
teristic of Henry's mind, had been fatal to his suc- 
cess in the various employments which he had 
hitherto attempted, it had not entirely deprived him 
of proper intellectual culture. During his first ex- 
periment in trade, he had devoted, as has been said, 
a part of his leisure to light reading. In the course 
of the second, which was of somewhat longer dura- 
tion, he extended his studies to subjects of a more 
serious character, and made himself familiar with 
geography and history, particularly the documentary 
and political history of Virginia. Multum, non 
miilta, (much, but not a great many books,) is the 
well-known rule for judicious and profitable 
reading. 

This rule was enforced upon Henry by the cir- 
cumstances of the times and country in which he 
lived. Cheap literature was not yet in fashion, and 
in settlements so remote from the central points of 
civilization as the interior of Virginia then was, the 
supply of even standard works was not abundant. 
A person who had acquired a taste for reading could 
gratify it only by repeated perusals of a few writers. 
The historians of Greece and Rome, whom he r^ad 
in English translations, were his favorite study. 
Livy, in particular, was a sort of manual with him ; 
and he subsequently informed a friend, that, in the 
earlier part of his life, he made it a rule to read the 
whole of this charming writer as often at least as 
once in every year. The Virginian Demosthenes 
was imitating, perhaps without knowing it, the ex- 
ample of his great prototype, who is said to have 

A. B., VOL. ni. —2 



1 8 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

copied the whole of Thucydides eight times with his 
own hand. The remarkable and sfgnificant fact just 
alluded to shows the vigor with which Henry's nat- 
urally elevated mind, though incapable of binding 
itself down to the uncongenial tasks which had thus 
far been presented to it, soared above the sphere of 
its habitual pursuits and pleasures in search of intel- 
lectual nutriment suited to its character. 

How infinitely preferable was this course of read- 
ing, whether considered in its effect on the judg- 
ment, the feelings, or the taste, to the confused mass 
of magazines, reviews, and novels, that occupy the 
hours of students of the present day! In the con- 
stant use of this noble manual we may, no doubt, 
trace, in no light degree, the energy of purpose, the 
high tone of moral sentiment, the sound practical 
wisdom, in short, the Roman cast of character, using 
the phrase in the best sense, which marked through- 
out the course of Henry, and which, but for the fact 
just mentioned, would have been unexplained by any 
known circumstances in his early pursuits and 
studies. With such training, however irregularly 
obtained, and with the splendid capacities which 
were yet to be developed, it only remained for Henry 
to place himself in a situation where his talents 
would be brought into exercise, in order to assume 
at once the eminent position to which they entitled 
him. The moment was, however, critical; another 
mistake in the choice of a profession, like those 
which he had already made, and ending in a continu- 
ation of his former ill-success, would have con- 
demned him for life to hopeless dependence and utter 



PATRICK HENRY I9 

insignificance. On the contrary, he was still young 
enough to reclaim, by a vigorous application of his 
powers to the uses for which they were intended, the 
time that he had lost, and to enter, with still un- 
clouded prospects of success, on the business of life. 

Everything depended on the course which he was 
now to take; and his -decision proved to be a most 
fortunate one for himself and his country. Baffled 
in his efforts to provide for his family in any of the 
less conspicuous occupations, he resolved to grasp 
at the highest and most difficult of all, the practice of 
law. It may be doubted, however, whether his 
views, in adopting the legal profession, went beyond 
the acquisition of a moderate subsistence. He was 
still unconscious of the extent of his abilities, and 
may, perhaps, have been determined on selecting an- 
other employment, by the fact that he could attempt 
the bar without the necessity of a moneyed capital, 
rather than by any anticipation of the eminence 
which he afterwards acquired. His situation ren- 
dered it, of course, important to contract as much 
as possible the time of preparation. 

Judge Tyler, the father of the one-time president 
of the United States, was informed by Henry him- 
self that he devoted one month only to this purpose, 
during which he read only Coke upon Littleton, and 
the Virginia statutes. Mr. Jefferson, who was in 
the college at Williamsburg when Henry came there 
to obtain his license, was told by himself that he had 
studied only six weeks. Other accounts fix the time 
at six, eight, and nine months ; but these variations 
are of little importance. It was not unnatural, that, 



20 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

under these circumstances, he should have found 
some difficulty in obtaining the necessary license 
from the board of examiners, which appears to have 
consisted of John and Peyton Randolph, Judge 
Wythe, and Robert C. Nicholas, all of them persons 
of superior talent and the highest eminence in the 
profession. According to the account of Mr. Jef- 
ferson, who was on the spot at the time, and partially 
acquainted with the circumstances, though he may 
not have remembered them so accurately as Henry 
himself, the two Randolphs, who were persons of 
great facility of temper, first consented to sign the 
license, though with great reluctance. Wythe posi- 
tively refused, and Nicholas at first declined, but 
finally, after great importunity and promises of fu- 
ture reading, gave his name, which completed the 
necessary number. 

In the account given by Judge Tyler of a conversa- 
tion which he had with Henry himself on the same 
subject, he is represented as having said, that, after 
obtaining the signatures of two of the examiners, he 
presented himself to John Randolph, afterwards at- 
torney-general of the colony, a profound lawyer and 
a polished gentleman. Finding how little he had 
read, and not being favorably impressed with his 
appearance and manner, Randolph at first refused 
to examine Henry, but at length, on being told that 
he had already obtained two signatures, began to 
interrogate him, though with evident reluctance. 
The replies made by Henry satisfied him at once that 
he was no common man. He then entered upon an 
examination, which lasted several hours, embracing 



PATRICK HENRY 21 

not only the local and colonial law, but the whole 
field of jurisprudence, in its widest extent, including 
the law of nations and general history. In the 
course of the examination, in order to test the logical 
ability of the candidate, Randolph disputed some of 
his positions, and drew him into a discussion, at the 
close of which he admitted that Henry had the best 
of the argument. He finally gave his signature, 
with the flattering remark that he would never be 
deceived by appearances again ; and that, if Henry's 
industry should be at all proportioned to his genius, 
he would become very shortly an ornament to his 
profession. 

Such were the auspices under which Patrick 
Henry was admitted to the bar. Ignorant, as he 
was, not only of law as a science, and of the most 
familiar forms of its practical administration, in- 
capable, as is said, of drawing a declaration or mak- 
ing a motion in court, it is not very wonderful that 
he obtained at first but little employment. His 
uncle, Judge Winston, states that, during the first 
four years after he received his license, he remained 
entirely undistinguished. His circumstances were 
extremely narrow, and he appears to have resided 
the greater part of the time with his father-in-law, 
Mr. Shelton, who then kept a tavern at Hanover 
court-house. When Shelton was absent from home, 
Henry ofiiciated in his stead, and probably lent him 
at other times such aid as was necessary. This fact 
accounts for the statement which has sometimes been 
made, and which does not seem to be very far from 
the truth, that he was at one period in his early life 
a bar-keeper at a tavern. 



22 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

The rumor, so far as it is well-founded, adds 
another to the numerous occupations through which 
the brilliant orator was compelled to make his way 
to distinction. At length the clouds that had so 
long hovered over his prospects cleared away. The 
celebrated Parsons' Cause, as it is still called in 
Virginia, afforded him the opportunity, which alone 
was wanting, to establish his powers, and placed him 
at once at the head of the profession. 



CHAPTER II 

The Parson's Cause. — First Remarkable Exhibition of 
Henry's Eloquence. 

The account of the Parsons' Cause is one of those 
passages in the Hfe of Henry in which poetry appears 
to be in some degree mingled with truth; nor is it 
easy, with the information now before us, to say 
with entire certainty what parts of the narrative 
appertain respectively to one or the other of these 
departments. The particulars of the affair are 
briefly as follows : 

The Parsons' Cause was an action brought by the 
Rev. James Maury, in the county court of Hanover 
County, against the collector of taxes for that county 
and his sureties, for the recovery of damages for the 
non-payment of a certain quantity of tobacco, alleged 
to be due to him on account of his salary. The 
claim was founded in a statute of the colony, origi- 
nally passed in the year 1696, and reenacted with 
amendments, in the year 1748, which fixed the an- 
nual stipend of a parish minister at sixteen thousand 
pounds of tobacco, and authorized him to demand 
payment in the article itself. He was, of course, at 
liberty to receive it in any other way that might suit 
his convenience. The common market price of to- 

23 



24 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

bacco had, for a long time, remained stationary at 
two pence the pound, or sixteen shilHngs and eight 
pence the hundred, and the clergy were in the habit 
of commuting the delivery of the article in kind for 
a money payment calculated on this basis. 

In the year 1755, the crop of tobacco having fallen 
short, the price rose to fifty or sixty shillings the 
hundred. In order to relieve the planters from the 
effect of this accidental change in the value of the 
article, the Legislature passed an Act authorizing 
them, for the present year, to pay in money such of 
these debts as might be due in tobacco, at the rate of 
sixteen shillings and eight pence the hundred. The 
Act was to continue in force for ten months, and 
went into effect immediately, not having contained 
the clause which was usually inserted in the Acts of 
the Colonial Legislature, suspending their operation 
until they should receive the royal assent. No oppo- 
sition was made by the clergy to the execution of 
this law, which was regularly carried into effect dur- 
ing the period for which it was enacted. 

Three years afterwards, in the year 1758, in con- 
sequence of the probability of the occurrence of an- 
other short crop, the law of 1755 was reenacted, and, 
as before, without the clause requiring the royal as- 
sent. The clergy now took alarm, and the measure 
was attacked in a vigorous pamphlet, entitled The 
Two-penny Act, published by the Rev. John Camm, 
rector of York-Hampton parish, and Episcopalian 
commissary for the colony. He was answered in 
two pamphlets, one written by Colonel Richard 
Bland, and the other by Colonel Landon Carter, in 



PATRICK HENRY 2$ 

which the commissary was treated without much 
ceremony. He repHed in a still more pointed 
pamphlet, entitled The Colonels Dismounted. The 
colonels rejoined, and a war of pamphlets followed, 
which created great excitement throughout the col- 
ony. The popular sentiment appears to have been 
adverse to the pretensions of the clergy, and at 
length became so strong that the printers within the 
colony refused to publish for them, so that Mr. 
Camm was finally compelled to resort to Maryland 
for a publisher. 

The pamphlets which were elicited by this con- 
troversy are still extant, and Mr. Wirt remarks, that 
'' It seems impossible to deny, at this day that the 
clergy had much the best of the argument." This, 
however, seems to be a merely technical view of the 
subject, founded on the idea that the colonial laws 
were not valid without the royal assent and that the 
clergy had, of course, retained throughout the whole 
afifair all the rights that were vested in them by the 
Act of 1748. Such, probably, was the correct con- 
struction of the law ; but it seems to be clear that the 
equity of the affair was on the other side, and that, 
so far as the argument turned upon any other topic 
than that of strict legal right, the planters were able 
to make "out a very strong case. The Act of 1748 
was a liberal and beneficial statute, intended to se- 
cure the clergy against the effect of fluctuations in 
the value of money ; and it was hardly fair or honor- 
able in the clergy to take advantage of this act of 
liberality in the planters, to extort from them, in a 
time of scarcity, triple the amount of the usual sti- 



26 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

pend. If the rise in the price of tobacco had been 
the effect of a depreciation in the vahie of money, 
and had extended to all other articles, the equity 
would have been with the clergy, because they could 
not have obtained the real value of their usual sti- 
pend without receiving it in kind. 

But as the rise took place in the article of tobacco 
only, being the effect of a short crop, while the value 
of money remained the same, the clergy, by com- 
muting the payment in tobacco for a money payment 
at the former price, would have received the full 
amount of their usual salary, and this was all that 
they could fairly claim. Mr. Wirt remarks that they 
could not help observing the benefits resulting from 
the Act to the rich planters, who received fifty or 
sixty shillings the hundred for their tobacco, while 
they were paying their tobacco debts at the rate of 
sixteen shillings and eight pence. He does not seem 
to have recollected that the rise in the price of tobacco 
was the effect of a reduction in the quantity. If the 
planter, by selling a crop of only a-third of the ordi- 
nary amount for three times the usual price was able 
to avoid the injurious effect of a short crop, he was 
still in no better condition than he would have been 
if the rise had not occurred; and if he paid his to- 
bacco debts in kind at the existing high prices he 
sustained an actual loss equal to two-thirds of the 
amount due. It was not fair, as has been remarked, 
for the clergy to extort this difference under pretence 
of a law which the planters had passed for the relief 
and benefit of the order. If, therefore, the law was 
with the clergy, the equity was clearly with the plant- 



PATRICK HENRY 2/ 

ers. The legal objection to the Act of 1748 was also 
one of the narrowest kind, and was, in reality, scarce- 
ly tenable. 

Admitting, as a general rule, that the Acts of a 
Colonial Legislature were not valid without the royal 
assent, it could not well be denied that a legislature, 
situated at such an immense distance from the 
mother country, must be supposed to possess some 
discretionary power to proceed without direct author- 
ity from home in a case of real necessity, and this 
was obviously one of that kind. The state of the 
crop could not be ascertained much in advance of tly* 
time when it would be brought to market; and, in 
order to meet the emergency, the law must be en- 
acted and carried into effect, before, in that day of 
protracted voyages and slow communications, there 
would be time to submit it to the eye of majesty. If 
substantial justice required the adoption of such a 
measure, and it was really impossible, under the 
circumstances, to have the royal assent, the Act 
might well have been regarded, even without such 
assent, as technically valid; more especially as the 
mutual prerogatives of the local and imperial gov- 
ernments were far from being accurately settled. 
At all events, the right, taking into view both law 
and equity, was by no means so clearly on the side 
of the clergy as Mr. Wirt represents it; and it is not 
at all surprising that the champions of the planters, 
arguing the case as they probably did chiefly on 
grounds of common sense and substantial justice, 
were able to make a strong impression upon the 
minds of the people. 



28 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

The affair was brought before the king in council ; 
and that body, sustaining naturally enough the con- 
struction of the law, and favorable to the royal pre- 
rogative, declared the Act of 1758 null and void for 
want of the royal assent. Finding themselves sup- 
ported in their pretensions by this high authority, 
the clergy undertook to enforce them by legal 
process, and commenced a number of suits for the 
recovery of their salaries in tobacco, of which that 
institution by Maury was one. Another of the same 
kind was commenced in the same county by the Rev. 
Patrick Henry, who has already been mentioned as 
the orator's uncle. The fact that Henry was not em- 
ployed by his uncle in this interesting cause is a 
strong proof that little was yet expected, even by 
those who knew him best, and felt the deepest in- 
terest in his welfare, from his future efforts in his 
new profession. 

The plaintiff, in this case of Maury, as I have re- 
marked before, founded his claim on the statute of 
1748. The defendant pleaded specially that of 1758 ; 
and to this plea the plaintiff demurred ; or, in other 
words, replied that this Act could not operate, in 
law, to set aside the plaintiff's claim ; first, because 
it had not received the royal assent, and, secondly, 
because it had been declared null and void by the 
king in council. The legal question was argued at 
the November term of the year 1763, by Mr. Lyons 
for the plaintiff, and Mr. John Lewis for the defend- 
ants, when the court, " very much," says Mr. Wirt, 
'' to the credit of their candor and firmness, breasted 
the popular current by sustaining the demurrer." 



PATRICK HENRY 29 

The clergy, having obtained a decision of the court 
in their favor, on the only objection that had been 
raised by the planters, naturally considered their 
cause as gained. It only remained for a jury to give 
the damages; but this was regarded as a merely 
formal proceeding, because the amount was supposed 
to be settled by the statute of 1748. The action was 
continued for this purpose; but the counsel for the 
defendants, Mr. Lewis, viewing the only point of 
importance as settled, and his services as no longer 
necessary, retired from the case. It was at this stage 
in the progress of the affair, and in consequence of 
the retirement of Mr. Lewis, that Patrick Henry was 
retained by the defendants. Probably the case was 
now supposed to have been brought within so narrow 
a compass that it might be safely intrusted to a 
junior member of the bar hitherto unknown to the 
public. 

Whatever may have been the views of the de- 
fendants in retaining him, Henry, on being applied 
to, consented to take charge of the affair, and to 
argue the question of damages before the jury. The 
case came on for trial on the ist of December, 1763, 
before the county court, in which the father of Henry 
sat as presiding magistrate. The position of the 
young barrister was, in fact, a rather singular one. 
He was to speak for the first time in open court be- 
fore his own father as presiding magistrate, in a case 
in which the court had already given a deliberate 
opinion in favor of the other party, and in which his 
uncle was interested against him. 

The excitement on the subject was so great 



30 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

throughout the colony that, even at this late period 
in the proceedings, a large audience attended, not 
only from Hanover, but from the neighboring coun- 
ties. The clergy, in particular, appeared in great 
force, and among them came the orator's uncle. On 
seeing him approach, Henry walked up to him, in 
company with Colonel Meredith, and expressed his 
regret at seeing his uncle there. " Why so? " in- 
quired the uncle. " Because," replied Henry, *' I fear 
that, as I have never yet spoken in public, I shall be 
too much overawed by your presence to do justice to 
my clients. Besides," he added, " I shall be under 
the necessity of saying some hard things of the 
clergy, which it may be unpleasant to you to hear." 
His uncle now censured him for having undertaken 
the case on the side of the planters, which Henry 
excused by saying that he had had no offer from the 
clergy ; and that, independently of this, his own heart 
and judgment were on the side of the people. He 
then requested his uncle to leave the ground. '' Why, 
Patrick," said the old gentleman, with a good-na- 
tured smile, " as to your saying hard things of the 
clergy, I advise you to be cautious, as you will be 
more likely to injure your own cause than theirs. As 
to my leaving the ground, I fear, my boy, that, with 
such a case to defend, my presence will do you but 
little harm or good. Since, however, you seem to 
think otherwise, and desire it of me so earnestly, you 
shall be gratified." He then entered his carriage 
again and returned home. 

This little anecdote, which I have given nearly in 
the words of Mr. Wirt, is equally creditable to both 



PATRICK HENRY 31 

parties, and affords a pleasing proof of the mutual 
good-feeling, which, under somewhat trying circum- 
stances, was maintained among the different mem- 
bers of the family. It is impossible to do full justice 
to the scene that followed without quoting the 
description of it in the language of the eloquent 
biographer. 

'' Soon after the opening of the court, the cause 
was called. It stood on a writ of inquiry of dam- 
ages, no plea having been entered by the defendants 
since the judgment on the demurrer. The array 
before Mr. Henry's eyes was now most fearful. On 
the bench sat more than twenty clergymen, the most 
learned men in the colony, and the most capable, as 
well as the severest critics before whom it was possi- 
ble for him to have made his debut. The court-house 
was crowded with an overwhelming multitude, and 
surrounded w^ith an immense and anxious throng, 
which, not finding room to enter, was endeavoring 
to listen without in the deepest attention. But there 
was something still more awfully disconcerting than 
all this ; for in the chair of the presiding magistrate 
sat no other person than his own father. Mr. Lyons 
opened the case very briefly. In the way of argu- 
ment he did nothing more than explain to the jury 
that the decision upon the demurrer had put the Act 
of 1758 entirely out of the way, and left the law of 
1748 as the only standard of damages. He then 
concluded with a highly- wrought eulogium on the 
benevolence of the clergy. 

" And now came on the first trial of Patrick 
Henry's strength. No one had ever heard him speak. 



32 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

and curiosity was on tiptoe. He rose very awkward- 
ly, and faltered much in his exordium. The people 
hung their heads at so unpromising a commence- 
ment ; the clergy were observed to exchange sly looks 
with each other, and his father is described as having 
almost sunk with confusion from his seat. But these 
feelings were of short duration, and soon gave place 
to others of a different character. For now were 
those wonderful faculties which he possessed, for 
the first time developed, and now was first witnessed 
that mysterious and almost supernatural transforma- 
tion of appearance which the fire of his own elo- 
quence never failed to work in him. For, as his mind 
rolled along, and began to glow from its own action, 
all the exuvicu of the clown seemed to shed them- 
selves spontaneously. His attitude, by degrees, be- 
came erect and lofty. The spirit of his genius 
awakened all his features. His countenance shone 
with a nobleness and grandeur which it had never 
before exhibited. There was a lightning in his eyes 
that seemed to rivet the spectator. His action be- 
came graceful, bold, and commanding; and in the 
tones of his voice, but more especially in his em- 
phasis, there was a peculiar charm, a magic, of 
which any one who ever heard him will speak as soon 
as he is named, but of which no one can give any 
adequate description. They can only say that it 
struck upon the ear and upon the heart, in a manner 
ivhich language cannot relate. Add to all these his 
wonder-working fancy, and the peculiar phraseology 
in which he clothed his images ; for he painted to the 
heart with a force that almost petrified it. In the 



PATRICK HENRY 33 

language of those who heard him on this occasion, 
' he made their blood run cold and their hair to rise 
on end.' 

'' It will not be difficult for any one who ever 
heard this most extraordinary man to believe the 
whole account of this transaction, which is given by 
his surviving hearers; and from their account the 
court-house at Hanover must have exhibited, on this 
occasion, a scene as picturesque as has ever been wit- 
nessed in real life. They say that the people, whose 
countenances had fallen as he arose, had heard but a 
very few sentences before they began to look up; 
then to look at each other with surprise, as if doubt- 
ing the evidence of their own senses ; then, attracted 
by some strong gesture, struck by some majestic atti- 
tude, fascinated by the spell of his eye, the charm of 
his emphasis, and the varied and commanding ex- 
pression of his countenance, they could look away 
no more. In less than twenty minutes they might 
be seen in every part of the house, on every bench, 
in every window, stooping forward from their 
stands, in death-like silence; their features fixed in 
amazement and awe; all their senses listening and 
riveted upon the speaker, as if to catch the last strain 
of some heavenly visitant. The mockery of the 
clergy was soon turned into alarm; their triumph 
into confusion and despair ; and, at one burst of his 
rapid and overwhelming invective, they fled from the 
bench in precipitation and terror. As for the father, 
such was his surprise, such his amazement, such his 
rapture, that, forgetting where he was, and the char- 
acter which he was filling, tears of ecstasy streamed 

A. B., VOL. in.— 3 



34 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

down his cheeks, without the power or inclination to 
repress them. 

'' The jury seem to have been so completely be- 
wildered that they lost sight not only of the Act of 
1748, but of that of 1758 also; for, thoughtless even 
of the admitted right of the plaintiff, they had scarce- 
ly left the bar when they returned with a verdict of 
one penny damages. A motion was made for a new 
trial ; but the court, too, had now lost the equipoise 
of their judgment, and overruled the motion by a 
unanimous vote. The verdict and judgment over- 
ruling the motion were followed by redoubled accla- 
mations from within and without the house. The 
people, who had with difficulty kept their hands off 
their champion, from the moment of his closing his 
harangue, no sooner saw the fate of the cause finally 
sealed, than they seized him at the bar, and, in spite 
of his own exertions and the continued cry of * Or- 
der,' from the sheriff and the court, they bore him 
out of the court-house, and, raising him on their 
shoulders, carried him about the yard in a kind of 
electioneering triumph." 

His father is represented as having been so much 
overwhelmed as to lose, for the time, the power of 
expressing his feelings. A few days after, in con- 
versation with his brother-in-law, Judge Winston, 
he alluded to the scene in the following simple terms, 
which contrast rather singularly with the gorgeous 
phraseology of Mr. Wirt. " Patrick spoke in this 
cause near an hour, and in a manner that surprised 
me. He showed himself well-informed upon a sub- 
ject of which I did not think he had any knowledge.** 



PATRICK HENRY 35 

" I have tried much/' continues Mr. Wirt, *' to 
procure a sketch of this celebrated speech. But those 
of Mr. Henry's hearers who survive seem to have 
been bereft of their senses. They can only tell you, 
in general, that they were taken captive, and were so 
delighted with their captivity that they followed im- 
plicitly whithersoever he led them; that, at his bid- 
ding, their tears flowed from pity and their cheeks 
flushed with indignation; that, when it was over, 
they felt as if they had just awakened from some 
ecstatic dream, of which they were unable to recall 
or connect the particulars. It was such a speech as 
they believe had never before fallen from the lips of 
man ; and, to this day, the old people of that county 
cannot conceive that a higher compliment can be 
paid to a speaker than to say of him, in their own 
homely phrase, ' He is almost equal to Patrick, when 
he pleaded against the parsons.' " 

In this account of the character and effect of 
Henry's argument there is obviously a large mixture 
of the poetical element, carried, in fact, rather be- 
yond the limits of good-taste in the forms of expres- 
sion. The main facts are, however, of such a kind 
that they cannot well have been fabricated or mis- 
represented. The verdict of the jury and the opin- 
ions of the court are matters of record; the eager 
attention of the audience during the argument, and 
the popular triumph at the close, are quite in accord- 
ance with the general character of the scene. The 
only statement of fact that wears a rather doubtful 
appearance is " the flight of the clergy in precipita- 
tion and terror from the bench." Whatever disgust 



36 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

or indignation may have been excited iti their minds 
by the invectives of Henry, there was no reason to 
apprehend any danger to their personal safety. 

The fact, probably, was that one or more, possibly 
the whole body of the clergy, on escertaining the line 
of argument which he intended to pursue retired 
from the bench, not in terror, but from unwillingness 
to listen to a furious attack on their own Order. The 
irregularity of the proceeding does not seem to have 
been quite so great as Mr. Wirt represents it. He 
says that the subject of the Act of 1758, and the or- 
der of council respecting it, had been disposed of at 
the preceding term, and that, strictly speaking, 
neither Henry nor the jury had anything to do with 
this part of the case; that the jury, in giving merely 
nominal damages, had lost sight, not only of the Act 
of 1758, but of that of 1748, and of the admitted 
right of the plaintiff ; and that the court, in overrul- 
ing the motion for a new trial, showed that '' they 
had lost the equipoise of their judgment." He can 
only account for such proceedings in part by the sup- 
posed laxity of the county court practice, and in part 
by the overwhelming effect of Henry's eloquence. 

In reality, however, although the court had de- 
cided at the preceding term that the demurrer was 
good in law, it remained for the jury to settle, as a 
question of fact, the amount of damage actually suf- 
fered. Supposing the law to be with the clergy, sub- 
stantial justice might still be on the other side; and 
in that case the damage sustained by the clergy was 
of the kind described in the books as damnum absque 
injuria (damage without injury). In such a case, a 



PATRICK HENRY 3/ 

verdict of nominal damages is obviously the proper 
one, the precise object of such a verdict being to 
recognize the existence of a legal right on one side, 
and an equitable one on the other ; nor does it appear 
that the court had any sufficient motive for granting 
a new trial. The law question had been decided at 
the preceding term, agreeably to the views of the 
party making the motion, and, of course, did not re- 
quire to be reconsidered. The verdict of the jury, 
whether right or wrong, was within the form of law, 
and was liable to no exception which would justify 
an application for a new trial. 

The case, as I have remarked before, was a good 
deal stronger against the clergy than Mr. Wirt is 
inclined to represent it, and seems, on the whole, to 
have been disposed of, at every stage of the pro- 
ceedings, in a manner very creditable to the firmness 
and independence of the parties to which it was suc- 
cessively submitted. The court, composed probably 
for the most part of planters, evinced a laudable dis- 
interestedness in deciding the demurrer against 
themselves, and in favor of the clergy. The jury 
exhibited both intelligence and independence in tak- 
ing the course which enabled them to reconcile sub- 
stantial justice with the form of law; and the court, 
in overruling the motion for a new trial, only carried 
into effect the common rules of proceeding. 

It is highly probable that the eloquence of Henry 
operated powerfully on the minds of the court and 
jury, as well as on those of the audience; but it is 
certain that its efifect must have been greatly height- 
ened by the strong sympathy that prevailed through- 



38 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

out the community with the party which he sup- 
ported, and the universal disposition of his hearers 
to receive with favor everything that he might say. 
Without intending any disparagement to his talents, 
we may perhaps, conclude with safety that the strong 
excitement which existed in regard to the question 
at issue furnishes the true key to the more extrava- 
gant, and otherwise almost incredible, incidents that 
marked the proceedings in the trial of the Parsons' 
Cause. While it was in Henry a strong proof of 
real power, that, on appearing for the first time as an 
advocate, he was able to meet the exigencies of such 
a scene, it was also an instance of good-fortune to 
have been called upon to make his debut in a case in 
which he necessarily carried with him the full current 
of popular feeling, and thus to enter, under the most 
favorable auspices, upon his professional career. 
Without adverting to the extraordinary interest felt 
at the time in this case, it would be difficult to ac- 
count for the fact that, in the long course of his sub- 
sequent efforts in so many different fields, he never 
seems to have surpassed, if, indeed, he ever quite 
equalled, the impression which he made upon this 
occasion, and that the argument in the Parsons' 
Cause is still cited as the ne phis ultra of his unri- 
valled eloquence. 

Of the topics treated in this celebrated speech, the 
only one of which any account has been preserved, 
is that of the validity of the Act of 1758, and of the 
proceedings respecting it by the king in council. 
Henry is represented by Mr. Wirt, on the authority, 
as I understand him, of oral tradition, as having 



PATRICK HENRY 39 

maintained that government was in the nature of a 
compact between the king and the people; that the 
king, on faihng to secure his subjects in Virginia 
against the results of a short crop of tobacco, had 
violated this compact, and thereby discharged the 
other party from the duty of executing it ; and that 
the people had provided for their own safety by the 
Act of 1758, the validity of which was in no way 
affected by the declaration of its nullity from the 
king in council. This is not, perhaps, the strongest 
form in which the argument on this topic could have 
been presented for the purpose which Henry had in 
view. It is not improbable that his reasoning may 
have been somewhat misrepresented in passing 
through the mouths of oral reporters. The object of 
Henry was to obtain a verdict of nominal damages, 
by showing that, wherever the legal right might be, 
substantial justice was on the side of the planters. 
In this purpose it was not necessary to argue that 
the king was bound by the social compact to secure 
the Virginia planters against the results of a short 
crop of tobacco, which he could not well be expected 
to do, or that the order in council, annulling the Act 
of 1758, had no legal validity. The natural course 
of the argument would be that the clergy had no 
claim in justice to triple their salaries at the expense 
of the planters, in consequence of an accidental rise 
in the value of a particular article; that, in founding 
such a claim upon a circumstance which was in itself 
in the nature of a public calamity, the clergy acted 
inconsistently with their professional character ; that 
the legislature, in securing the planters by law 



40 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

against such a pretension, proceeded in accordance 
with the dictates of natural justice; that, under the 
pecuHar circumstances of the case, it was physically 
impossible to obtain the king's assent to the law, and 
that the legislature were consequently justified by 
necessity in proceeding without it ; and that the sub- 
sequent declaration of the council, however it might 
affect the validity of the law, could not affect the 
equity of the case, nor consequently impair the right 
of the plaintiff to a verdict of merely nominal dam- 
ages. This is the argument which would naturally 
have been suggested by the aspect under which the 
case was presented. It is tenable in all its points, and 
only required to be stated with power and eloquence, 
in order to carry conviction to the mind of every 
hearer. The development of it would naturally in- 
clude a course of severe animadversion on the con- 
duct of the clergy, in seeking to fatten on the public 
distress; but it would not have been necessary to 
insist on any views of the law inconsistent with those 
which had already been taken by the court. It may 
therefore be presumed that it is the outline of the 
argument adopted by Henry. 

Such is the history of the famous Parsons' Cause, 
The clergy took no step in carrying the matter before 
a higher tribunal. Mr. Camm published another 
pamphlet, in which the obscure advocate of the 
planters, and the court in which the cause had been 
tried, were treated with great contempt. But the 
interest that had been for some time felt in this affair 
was immediately forgotten, under the stronger ex- 
citement produced by the opening scenes of the Rev- 



PATRICK HENRY 4I 

oliitlonary contest, and left no results of consequence, 
excepting that of having brought before the public 
view, under the most favorable auspices, at this 
critical period, an individual better fitted perhaps by 
character and talents than any other in the colony, 
to ride on the whirlv^^ind and direct the storm. 

Henry was at once retained for the planters in all 
the cases then in court depending on the same prin- 
ciples with that of Mr. Maury; but they were all 
withdrawn by the clergy and never came to trial. 
His business increased considerably, but was still 
for some time hardly adequate to his support ; and, 
for the purpose of obtaining a wider field for his 
operations he removed to the county of Louisa, 
where he resided at a place called the Roundabout. 
Here he resumed, in connection with his professional 
occupations, his favorite rural sports, and has been 
known to hunt the deer for several days together, 
carrying his provision with him, and at night en- 
camping in the woods. After the hunt was over, he 
would go from the ground to the Louisa court-house 
in his hunting apparel, take up the first of his causes 
that happened to be called, and, if it afforded any 
scope for display, astonish the court and jury by the 
effusions of his natural eloquence. His power of en- 
chaining the attention of his hearers is strikingly 
shown by a remark of Judge Lyons, the same person 
who had argued the Parsons' Cause against him, 
and who has been heard to say that, while practicing 
at the bar, he could always write a letter, or draft a 
legal paper, in court with as much freedom of mind 
as in his own office, under all circumstances, except- 



42 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

mg when Patrick rose to speak; but that, whenever 
this happened, however trifling might be the matter 
in question, he was obhged to throw aside his pen 
and could not write a word until the speech was 
finished. 

In the autumn of 1764, about a year after his 
argument in the Parsons' Cause, Henry was em- 
ployed to appear before a committee of the House of 
Burgesses, in a case of a contested election, and ac- 
quitted himself with great distinction. But the mo- 
ment had now arrived when he was himself to take 
his seat in the assembly, and for a time to govern 
its proceedings on the mighty questions in regard 
to which the Colonies were at issue with the mother 
country. 



CHAPTER III 

Elected a Member of the House of Burgesses. — Brings for- 
ward his celebrated Resolutions on the Stamp Act. 

The year in which Patrick Henry argued the Par- 
sons' Cause was distinguished by an event of higli 
importance to the concerns of this continent, and 
ultimately, through them, of the whole Christian 
world. In that year were signed at Paris, by the 
representatives of the principal European powers, the 
definitive treaties which brought to a close the War 
of 1756, commonly called, in this country, the Old 
French War. By these treaties, France, then in the 
hands of the corrupt and imbecile administration 
which governed in the name of Louis the Fifteenth, 
threw from her, as if in wantonness, the vast terri- 
tory which she had previously possessed on this con- 
tinent, and which, properly administered, might have 
secured to her the dominion of the whole. Canada 
was ceded to Great Britain. Louisiana, compre- 
hending, as claimed by France, the entire valley of 
the Mississippi from the mouth of that river to its 
sources, and from the Alleghany to the Rocky Moun- 
tains, perhaps, on the whole, the richest and most 
favored region of equal extent on the face of the 
globe, was given away, as it seem.s, without any mo- 
tive whatever, to Spain. By the same treaties, Flor- 
ida was ceded by Spain to England. 

43 



44 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

It was doubtless supposed, at the time, that these 
arrangements had consoHdated and estabhshed for- 
ever the dominion of Great Britain over the whole 
western continent. Occupying the coast from 
Davis's Straits to Cape Florida, relieved from the 
dangerous neighborhood of the French, who had 
hitherto in some degree kept them in check, and with 
nothing to oppose their farther progress but a torpid 
Spanish government at New Orleans, it was nat- 
urally supposed that the Colonies would regularly 
and eagerly push forward their settlements into the 
interior, until they had driven the Spaniards from 
the continent; in short, that they would run, as 
British subjects, the same career, which they have, in 
fact, pursued as citizens of the United States. 

This was the superficial aspect of the case; but a 
keener foresight into the future might, perhaps, even 
then have satisfied the observer that the result of 
these arrangements would be of a directly opposite 
character, and would tend to weaken and dismember, 
rather than consolidate and strengthen, the British 
power. The neighborhood of the French was the 
principal circumstance that counteracted this ten- 
dency to independence, which naturally grew out of 
the remote situation of the British colonies, and their 
peculiar habits of thought and feeling. At the oc- 
currence of every new war in Europe, the British 
settlements in America were exposed to new inroads 
from the interior, aggravated in their effects by all 
the horrors of savage warfare. The necessity of 
obtaining the aid of the mother country in repelling 
these attacks, and the sympathy generated by the 



PATRICK HENRY 45 

concert of action thus produced, created for the time 
a community of feehng which could never have been 
produced in any other v^ay. The acquisition of 
Canada removed this check to the spirit of inde- 
pendence; and it might, perhaps, have been antici- 
pated that this spirit would now develop itself with 
greater assurance and freedom than before. But 
even in this view of the subject no contemporary ob- 
server would ever have predicted the rapidity with 
which the new combination of circumstances pro- 
duced its efifects. At no period in the history of the 
Colonies had the feeling on their part towards the 
mother country been so cordial as it was at the con- 
clusion of the Peace of 1763. Twelve years after- 
wards, the mother country and the Colonies were at 
open war; in thirteen, the colonies had declared In- 
dependence; and in twenty, the representatives of 
the same powers that made the arrangements of 
1763, signed, at Paris, another set of treaties, the 
principal result of which was to recognize the na- 
tional existence of the United States. So rapid, in 
some cases at least, is the progress of the revolutions 
which determine the fortunes of nations and change 
the face of the world. 

The event which immediately brought on this new 
and wholly unexpected series of occurrences took 
place in England in the year following the Peace, 
and was one of its results. Desiring to make the 
reductions in the taxes that are usual after the close 
of a long war, and finding it necessary at the same 
time to provide for the interest of a large war-debt, 
the British ministry, in order to combine the two 



46 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

objects as far as possible, began to look about for 
new sources of revenue, and conceived the idea of 
raising funds by taxing the Colonies. In pursuance 
of this project, on the loth of March, 1764, a de- 
claratory resolution was adopted in Parliament, to 
the effect that it " would be proper to impose certain 
stamp duties on the Colonies and Plantations, for 
the purpose of raising an American revenue, payable 
into the British exchequer." At the next session of 
Parliament, in the year 1765, a law was passed, in 
conformity with this resolution, commonly called the 
Stamp Act. 

The resolution and the Act, though adopted by 
large majorities, were opposed in Parliament by a 
respectable minority, chiefly on the ground of con- 
stitutional law. The right of the government to raise 
money from the people by taxation was declared to 
be coextensive with, and incidental to, the right of 
the people to be represented in Parliament. As the 
Colonies were not represented in Parliament, they 
could not rightfully be taxed. The correctness of 
this principle, even in its application to the mother 
country, may perhaps be regarded as somewhat 
questionable. With the inhabitants of the British 
islands the right of being directly represented in 
Parliament is far from being, or having been at any 
time, coextensive with the duty of paying taxes ; and 
the idea of virtual representation, it was supposed, 
might as well be applied to the population of the 
Colonies, as to the unrepresented part of that of the 
mother country. 

It may be urged, indeed, with some degree of 



PATRICK HENRY 47 

plausibility, that, where the legislator is himself sub- 
ject to his own laws, there is less danger of oppres- 
sion than where they are made applicable only to a 
distant country. But this is a consideration of equity 
and expediency, rather than of strict right. In real- 
ity, the constitutional rights of British subjects, 
which at home depended on usage rather than strict 
definition, became, in the anomalous circumstances 
under which the Colonies were settled, so entirely 
matters of inference and construction that they must 
necessarily have been interpreted differently, and 
with almost equal degrees of plausibility, by the 
Colonies and the Government. It was the true policy 
of the government to avoid everything that would 
provoke discussion on the subject, since, whatever 
the merits of the case might be, any agitation of the 
question would necessarily stimulate the existing ten- 
dency to Independence. The error of the British 
ministry lay in assuming a principle, which, whether 
in itself true or false, could not fail at all events to 
provoke a controversy, and in not retracing their 
steps with sufficient firmness, wdien they saw how the 
Act was received in America. 

Starting from the period of the Peace of 1763, 
when the feeling of cordiality toward the mother 
country was strong and universal, had the British 
ministry pursued uniformly a conciliatory course, 
never advancing any pretension which was fitted to 
alarm the jealousy of the Colonies, encouraging, in- 
stead of crushing, their home industry, governing 
them, in short, not with a view to the separate ag- 
grandizement of Great Britain, but to the interest of 



48 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

the Colonies themselves, and that of the mother 
country only as therein involved and implied; had 
the ministry taken such a course, the union with 
Great Britain might have lasted for an indefinite 
period, perhaps for centuries, and until the superior 
population and revenues of the Colonies should have 
transferred the seat of the common government, by a 
natural process, to this side of the Atlantic. But 
such results would have been hardly consistent with 
the ordinary course of events. With the feelings on 
both sides that naturally grew out of their respective 
positions, it was much more natural that the British 
government should adopt some such measure as the 
Stamp Act, and that its adoption should be followed 
by resistance from the Colonies. 

But although opposition, more or less energetic, 
was naturally to be expected, and was doubtless 
calculated on by the ministers, it is hardly probable 
that they anticipated the storm of resistance which 
burst upon them at once from all quarters of the 
continent. The declaratory resolution was met by 
remonstrances and protests from the Colonial legisla- 
tures, transmitted through their agents at London, 
in which they denied entirely the right of the Gov- 
ernment to raise a revenue from the Colonies. 
Shaken in some degree by their proceedings, the 
ministry intimated to the agents that they had no 
particular predilection for the proposed method of 
raising the money wanted, and that they would 
abandon the idea of laying Stamp duties if the agents 
would suggest any other mode of obtaining the 
amount which these duties were expected to yield, 



PATRICK HENRY 49 

and which was only a hundred thousand pounds. 
So trifling was the pecuniary interest actually at 
stake in the quarrel, which was destined to dismem- 
ber the British empire. The agents rejected these 
overtures, and insisted firmly on the constitutional 
right of British subjects not to be taxed excepting 
with their own consent through their representatives. 

Failing in these attempts at conciliation, the min- 
istry adhered to their original plan. Soon after the 
opening of Parliament, in January, 1765, they car- 
ried through the two Houses, by unanimous consent, 
a resolution not to receive any memorials which de- 
nied the right of the Government to tax the Colonies ; 
and soon after proposed, and carried by large ma- 
jorities, the famous Stamp Act. On the actual pas- 
sage of this obnoxious law, the feeling of discontent 
which had been kept in some degree within bounds, 
by the hope that Parliament would refrain from fol- 
lowing out the course indicated by the resolution of 
the preceding session, now burst forth with uncon- 
trollable fury. On the arrival of the intelligence of 
the passage of the law at Boston, the ships in port 
displayed their flags at half-mast as signals of dis- 
tress ; the bells were muffled and tolled as at a 
funeral. The Act was publicly burned. The ship- 
masters who had brought out the stamps were com- 
pelled* to give them up, and they were immediately 
destroyed, so that, on the ist of November, when the 
Act went into operation, there was not one to be 
found in the Colonies. 

The merchants entered into mutual compacts not 
to import any goods from Great Britain while the 

A. B.,VOL. HI. —4 



50 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

law remained in force. As the use of stamped paper 
was rendered necessary by the Act in ahiiost all mat- 
ters of business, public or private, the destruction of 
the supply which had been transmitted interrupted 
the progress of all current affairs. The courts of 
justice were closed, and the people were left at full 
leisure to devote their whole time and attention to 
the all-absorbing subject. The rapidity with which 
the feeling that prevailed through the Colonies 
changed, in a single year, from unprecedented cor- 
diality to unmitigated abhorrence, is almost miracu- 
lous. It evinces a keen sensibility to any interference 
with their real or supposed political rights, and a 
resolute determination to maintain them, singularly 
characteristic of the race from which they sprang, 
but which had never, perhaps, been displayed with 
greater energy at the most trying periods in the his- 
tory of the mother country. 

The legislature of Virginia, immediately after re- 
ceiving intelligence of the adoption of the declaratory 
resolution by Parliament, prepared addresses, di- 
rected severally to the King, the House of Lords, 
and the House of Commons, in which they remon- 
strated with spirit and decision, but still in a tone of 
moderation, against any actual legislation on this 
basis. These addresses corresponded in character 
with the feeling which prevailed in the Colonies at 
the time of their adoption, and which was still friend- 
ly and loyal towards the mother country, although 
in some degree altered by the prospect of the meas- 
ures that were threatened. The actual passage of 
the Stamp Act seems to have obliterated entirely the 



PATRICK HENRY 5 1 

remains of the previously existing sentiment, and to 
have substituted in its place the most intense excite- 
ment, and a resolute determination to resist to the 
utmost, and at all hazards, the ministerial preten- 
sions. The boldest and most energetic patriots were 
naturally called into action by the nature of the crisis. 

In Virginia, the friends of liberty fixed their eyes 
immediately upon the young advocate who had re- 
sently acquired so much reputation by his brilliant 
eloquence and undaunted defence of Colonial rights 
against the encroachments of the Crown, at the reg- 
ular election of members of the House of Burgesses 
for the year 1765. Henry does not seem to have 
been thought of as a candidate ; but, after the adop- 
tion of the Stamp Act was known, Mr. William 
Johnson, the member elect for the county of Louisa, 
accepted the place of coroner in order to create a 
vacancy. A writ was issued on the ist of May for 
a new election, and before the 20th it appears that 
Henry had taken his seat in the Assembly, which 
was in session at the time, as on that day he was 
added to the committee for courts of justice. On 
making his appearance in the Assembly, he exhibited 
the same plain and rather uncouth exterior which 
had previously distinguished him. It now formed 
a rather striking contrast with the stately deport- 
ment and finished elegance of manner which charac- 
terized the leading members of the landed aristoc- 
racy of Virginia. 

It was probably not anticipated by the friends of 
Henry that he would lead the proceedings of the 
Assembly on the Stamp Act. Richard Henry Lee, 



52 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

Pendleton, Wythe, Bland, and others, who after- 
wards took an active and prominent part in the con- 
test with the mother country, were members of this 
body, and, from their superiority in years and au- 
thority, if not in talent and eloquence, to Henry, 
were naturally expected to assume the responsibility 
of pointing out the course to be pursued. Henry, as 
a young and powerful advocate, was calculated on 
to sustain and recommend to the people the measures 
proposed by the leaders. These very natural ex- 
pectations were, as we shall presently see, entirely 
disappointed. 

The first affair in which Henry took a part was far 
from exhibiting any very strong tendency in him to 
follow the lead of the landed aristocracy. Although 
it had no immediate connection with the exciting 
political topics of the day, it was in itself of an inter- 
esting character, and, in more quiet times, would 
have probably absorbed for some years the attention 
of the Colony. It was a proposal made in the Assem- 
bly to convert the State treasury into a sort of land 
bank, by authorizing the treasurer to lend the public 
money to individuals on good landed security. 
Whether these loans were to be made in a paper 
money, resting on the public faith, to be created for 
the purpose, or in the usual currency of the Colony, 
is not stated in the accounts that have come down to 
us of this transaction. 

The treasurer of the Colony at this period was 
John Robinson, who was also at the same time, and 
had been for five and twenty years preceding, the 
speaker of the Assembly. He was a person of large 



PATRICK HENRY 53 

property and excellent character, by general ac- 
knowledgment the leader of the landed interest. 
Profuse in his expenditures, and liberal in his dispo- 
sition, he had been in the habit of lending money 
very freely to such persons as wished to borrow, em- 
ploying indiscriminately for this purpose his own 
funds and those of the State. By a long persever- 
ance in this system his affairs had become confused, 
and he began to apprehend that he should find him- 
self unable to meet his payments on public account. 
The real object of the proposed measure was to en- 
able him to settle his affairs, by transferring the loans 
which he had made on his own responsibility, though 
with the public money, to the credit of the State. As 
the irregularity of the manner in which Robinson 
had managed the affairs of the treasury was not 
known until after his death, which took place a year 
later, the real object of the proposed measure was 
not at the time suspected by the public. The plan 
seems to have been favored by the leading members 
of the Assembly, who naturally anticipated that the 
loans to be made would fall, in part at least, into 
their hands. 

It was in opposition to this plan that Henry made 
his first speech in the House of Burgesses. The 
ultimate object not being known, he could, of course, 
attack it only on the general ground of objections, 
which are sufficiently obvious; such as the danger, 
inconvenience, and radical impropriety of employing 
the public money in private banking operations, and 
the abuses to which such a system would necessarily 
lead. No report is extant of this speech. Mr. Jeffer- 



54 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

son, who heard the debate, speaks of it as an effort of 
great abiHty, and quotes a single remark which made 
at the time a very strong impression on himself and 
the House. It had been urged by the friends of the 
measure that certain persons of substantial property 
had been led by circumstances to contract debts, 
which, if exacted immediately, would bring ruin 
upon them and their families, but that, with a little 
indulgence in point of time, these debts might be 
paid with ease, and that this project would furnish 
the persons so situated with the accommodation 
which they wanted. " What, Sir," said Henry, in 
commenting upon this remark, which seems to have 
been a covert allusion to the case of Robinson him- 
self; "What, Sir, is it proposed, then, to reclaim 
the spendthrift from his dissipation and extrava- 
gance by filling his pockets with money? " " These 
expressions," says Jefferson, in his letter to Wirt, 
" are indelibly impressed upon my memory." As 
the remark here quoted, though just and pointed, has 
nothing particularly striking or brilliant about it, it 
is easy to judge how much the effect of Henry's 
speeches, as is the case, indeed, with those of every 
celebrated orator, must have depended on the man- 
ner in which they were delivered. The opposition of 
Henry to the projected plan was succesful. He 
carried with him all the members of the upper coun- 
try, who constituted a considerable majority over the 
aristocracy of the lower country. 

The next year Robinson died, and the disclosure 
of the deficit in his accounts with the State, which 
exhibited the true character of this proposal, fully 



PATRICK HENRY 55 

justifies the opposition of Henry, and reflected honor 
on his foresight and sagacity. He assumed at this 
time the position, which he continued to hold through 
his whole career, of a popular tribune, who made it 
his business to attempt to secure the rights of the 
mass of the community against invasion by the 
wealthy and powerful. This might not have been, 
in ordinary times, a course very well fitted to secure 
to him the highest emoluments and advantages held 
out by his profession, as it naturally rendered him 
obnoxious to the landed proprietors, who owned 
most of the property, and disposed of all the patron- 
age of the Crown in the Colony. But, under the pe- 
culiar circumstances of the crisis, it proved* perhaps 
more favorable to his influence than any other that 
he could have adopted. The progress of events very 
soon transferred the patronage of the Colony from 
the hands of the aristocracy to those of the popular 
leaders, and compelled the former not merely not to 
oppose Henry, but to march, though not with a very 
good-will, under his banner. This result was seen in 
the proceedings of the Assembly at this session upon 
the Stamp Act. 

The leading men appear to have made up their 
minds, that it was unnecessary to add anything at 
this session to the addresses which had been adopted 
at the preceding one, and, up to the third day before 
the session was to terminate, had shown no intention 
to propose any new measure. It was at this period 
that Henry introduced his celebrated resolutions. 
At some subsequent time, he made himself a state- 
ment in writing of the circumstances under which 



56 AMERICAN PIOGRAPHY 

they were offered. The document is the more cu- 
rious, as it is the only source from which our knowl- 
edge of one of the resolutions is derived. After the 
decease of Henry, a parcel was found among his 
papers, with this superscription : '' Enclosed are the 
resolutions of the Virginia Assembly, in 1765, con- 
cerning the Stamp Act. Let my executors open this 
paper." The parcel contained a copy of the resolu- 
tions, with some remarks written upon the back of 
it, the whole in Henry's handwriting. The resolu- 
tions are as follows : 

'' Resolved, That the first adventurers and settlers 
of this his Majesty's colony and dominion brought 
with them, and transmitted to their posterity, and all 
others, his Majesty's subjects, since inhabiting in this 
his Majesty's said colony, all the privileges, fran- 
chises, and immunities, that have at any time been 
held, enjoyed, and possessed, by the people of Great 
Britain. 

'' Resolved, That, by two royal charters, granted 
by King James the First, the colonists aforesaid are 
declared entitled to all the privileges, liberties, and 
immunities of denizens and natural-born subjects, 
to all intents and purposes, as if they had been abid- 
ing and born within the realm of England. 

'' Resolved, That the taxation of the people by 
themselves, or by persons chosen by themselves to 
represent them, who can only know what taxes the 
people are able to bear, and the easiest mode of rais- 
ing them, and are equally affected by such taxes 
themselves, is the distinguishing characteristic of 
British freedom, and without which the ancient con- 
stitution cannot subsist. 



PATRICK HENRY 57 

'' Resolved, That his Majesty's Hege people of this 
most ancient colony have uninterruptedly enjoyed 
the right of being thus governed by their own As- 
sembly, in the article of their taxes and internal 
police ; and that the same hath never been forfeited, 
or in any other way given up, but hath been con- 
stantly recognized by the king and people of Great 
Britain. 

'' Resolved, therefore. That the General Assembly 
of this colony have the sole right and power to lay 
taxes and impositions upon the inhabitants of this 
colony ; and that every attempt to vest such power 
in any person or persons w^hatsoever, other than the 
General Assembly aforesaid, has a manifest tendency 
to destroy British, as well as American, freedom." 

The endorsement, also in Henry's handwriting, 
on the paper containing these resolutions, is as 
follows : 

" The within resolutions passed the House of Bur- 
gesses in May, 1765. They formed the first opposi- 
tion to the Stamp Act, and the scheme of taxing 
America by the British Parliament. All the Colo- 
nies, either through fear or want of opportunity to 
form an opposition, or from influences of some kind 
or other, had remained silent. I had been, for the 
first time, elected a burgess a few days before ; was 
young, inexperienced, unacquainted with the forms 
of the House and the members that composed it. 
Finding the men of weight averse to opposition, and 
the commencement of the tax at hand, and that no 
person was likely to step forth, I determined to ven- 
ture; and, alone, unadvised, on a blank leaf of an 



58 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

old law book wrote the within. Upon offering them 
to the House, violent debates ensued. Many threats 
were uttered, and much abuse cast on me by the 
party for submission. After a long and warm con- 
test, the resolutions passed by a very small majority, 
perhaps of one or two only. The alarm spread 
throughout America with astonishing quickness, and 
the ministerial party were overwhelmed. The great 
point of resistance to British taxation was universal- 
ly established in the Colonies. This brought on the 
war, which finally separated the two countries, and 
gave Independence to ours. Whether this will prove 
a blessing or a curse, will depend upon the use our 
people make of the blessings which a gracious God 
hath bestowed upon us. If they are wise, they will 
be great and happy. If they are of a contrary char- 
acter, they will be miserable. Righteousness alone 
can exalt them as a nation. 

" Reader! whoever thou art, remember this; and, 
in thy sphere, practice virtue thyself, and encourage 
it in others. P. Henry.'' 

Such is the account, given by Henry himself, of 
the passage of these resolutions. It is known, also, 
from himself, through the channel of his brother-in- 
law, Judge Winston, that, before they were offered, 
they were shown to two persons only, John Fleming 
and George Johnston, members respectively for the 
counties of Cumberland and Fairfax, by the latter of 
whom they were seconded. They were opposed with 
great earnestness by the prominent members who 
generally led the proceedings, and, on most occa- 
sions, as a matter of course, commanded a majority. 



PATRICK HENRY 59 

The reader will naturally desire to see the account of 
the proceedings, as given in the graphic and spirited 
language of JefTerson, who was present at the debate. 

'' Mr. Henry moved, and Mr. Johnston seconded, 
these resolutions, successively. They were opposed 
by Messrs. Randolph, Bland, Pendleton, Wythe, and 
all the old members, whose influence in the House 
had till then been unbroken. They did it, not from 
any question of our rights, but on the ground that 
the same sentiments had been at the preceding ses- 
sion expressed in a more conciliatory form, to which 
the answers were not yet received. But torrents of 
sublime eloquence from Henry, backed by the solid 
reasoning of Johnston, prevailed. The last, however, 
and strongest resolution, was carried but by a single 
vote. The debate on it was most bloody. I was 
then but a student, and stood at the door of com- 
munication between the house and the lobby, (for 
as yet there was no gallery, ) during the whole debate 
and vote ; and I well remember that, after the num- 
bers on the division were told and declared from the 
chair, Peyton Randolph, the attorney-general, came 
out at the door where I was standing, and said, as 
he entered the lobby, ' I would have given five hun- 
dred guineas for a single vote ; ' for one vote would 
have divided the house, and Robinson was in the 
chair, who, he knew, would have negatived the 
resolution. 

" Mr. Henry left town that evening; and the next 
morning, before the meeting of the House, Colonel 
Peter Randolph, then of the council, came to the hall 
of burgesses and sat at the clerk's table till the house 



6o 'AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

bell rang, thumbing over the volumes of journals to 
find a precedent for expunging a vote of the House, 
which, he said, had taken place while he was a mem- 
ber or clerk of the House, I do not recollect which. 
I stood by him at the end of the table a considerable 
part of the time, looking on as he turned the leaves ; 
but I do not recollect whether he found the erasure. 
In the meantime, some of the timid members who 
had voted for the strongest resolution had become 
alarmed; and, as soon as the House met, a motion 
was made and carried to expunge it from the jour- 
nals. There being, at that day, but one printer, and 
he entirely under control of the governor, I do not 
know that this resolution ever appeared in print. I 
write this from memory ; but the impression made on 
me at the time was such as to fix the facts indelibly 
in my mind. I suppose the original journal was 
among those destroyed by the British, or its obliter- 
ated face might be appealed to. And here I will 
state, that Burk's statement of Mr. Henry's con- 
senting to withdraw two resolutions, by way of com- 
promise with his opponents, is entirely erroneous." 
Mr. Jefferson's suggestion that the manuscript 
journal was probably destroyed by the British dur- 
ing the war has been ascertained to be erroneous, as 
the book disappeared very soon after the close of the 
session of 1765. There are various errors, besides 
the one mentioned by Mr. Jefferson, in the account 
of Burk, and some in that of Marshall, in the first 
volume of the *' Life of Washington." Fortunately, 
the original note of Henry, and the account of Jeffer- 
son, enable us to form a perfectly correct, as well as 



PATRICK HENRY 6 1 

singularly clear and distinct, notion of this thrilling 
scene. Jefferson standing as a listener at the door or 
the House of- Burgesses, and imbibing, from the 
" torrents of Henry's sublime eloquence," the pa- 
triotic inspiration which was destined, only ten years 
afterwards, to glow in his own draft of the Declara- 
tion of Independence, would furnish a noble subject 
for the historical painter, and one which would open 
plainly to the eye some of the powerful, but then 
hidden, springs of the coming Revolution. 

Of the speech or speeches made by Henry in this 
debate there is no satisfactory record. Burk, in his 
History, gives what purports to be his speech ; but it 
is the mere outline of an argument, resting, probably, 
on recollection, with the exception of a single passage 
at the close, the correctness of which is well authenti- 
cated, and which contributed greatly at the time, by 
giving effect and poignacy to the whole speech, to 
produce the desired result. According to this out- 
line, Henry considered the pretence of the ministry 
to raise a revenue in this country as conflicting with 
the Colonial charters, with the rights of the people as 
British subjects, and with their natural rights as 
men. At the close, he dwelt upon the danger to 
which the king himself would be exposed in pursuing 
his present course. " Caesar," said he, " had his 
Brutus, Charles the First his Cromwell, and George 
the Third — " At this moment, the orator paused, 
as if in doubt how to finish the sentence. The nat- 
ural termination seemed, of course, to be, that 
George the Third would come, like them, to a vio- 
lent end ; and the members opposed to Henry imme- 



62 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

diately raised a loud cry of " Treason, treason," in 
all parts of the House. Henry, in no way discon- 
certed, but appearing, on the contrary, to gather new 
power from the excitement of the scene, assumed a 
more erect position, and, fastening his eagle eye upon 
the speaker, the same John Robinson whose corrupt 
plans he had so signally baffled a few days before, 
added, in the most appropriate emphasis, as the clos- 
ing words of the phrase, " may profit by their exam- 
ple." He then paused again, for some seconds, and 
finally subjoined, as a sort of commentary on the 
outcry that had just occurred, '' If this be treason, 
make the most of it ! " 

Such was the first appearance of Henry as an 
orator on purely political topics; and it is a rather 
singular circumstance that, in this department, as in 
that of legal practice, no subsequent effort seems to 
have surpassed, or even quite equalled, in immediate 
effect, the first. His speech in the Continental Con- 
gress, soon after its organization, called forth the 
strongest admiration; many of his speeches in the 
Virginia Convention, on the Federal Constitution, 
were received with unbounded enthusiasm, and pro- 
duced very extraordinary results. His argument in 
the British Debt case, which occupied three days, is 
analyzed at great length by Mr. Wirt, and dwelt 
upon as a sort of masterpiece. But, even at the pres- 
ent time, a Virginian, who is requested to mention 
the leading titles of Henry's glory, appeals without 
hesitation to the speeches on the Stamp Act and the 
Parsons' Cause. The peculiar circumstances attend- 
ing each of these cases may have contributed some- 



PATRICK HENRY 63 

thing to give them their comparative importance; 
but, independently of any other cause, there is a cer- 
tain freshness in the first efforts of a powerful mind, 
which gives them an advantage over those of later 
years, that, on careful analysis, may appear, as works 
of science and art, fully equal, if not superior. 

It is remarked by Lord Byron, in one of his private 
memoranda or letters, that he awoke one morning 
and found himself famous. Henry had taken his 
seat in the Assembly, notwithstanding the eclat of 
the Parsons' Cause, a still comparatively obscure 
country attorney, at best a rising lawyer of great 
promise. He returned to his home, three or four 
weeks after, by universal acknowledgment, the first 
statesman and orator in Virginia. 



CHAPTER IV 

Repeal of the Stamp Act. — Henry elected to the Continental 
Congress. — Speech in the Virginia Convention. 

The unfortunate measure which had produced 
such a ferment throughout the Colonies, and which 
exercised so important an influence on their relations 
with the mother country, was destined itself to be of 
short duration. Within a year after the passage of 
the Stamp Act, a change took place in the adminis- 
tration of the British Govern'ment. The Grenville 
Cabinet, in which the Tory influence predominated, 
was compelled to retire ; and a new one was formed, 
on Whig principles, under the direction of the Mar- 
quis of Rockingham. It was on this occasion that 
Burke, who had previously been private secretary 
to the marquis, took his seat in Parliament. It may 
be proper to remark that, although the Grenville ad- 
ministration was ostensibly responsible for the pas- 
sage of the Stamp Act, Mr. Grenville himself is said 
to have been individually averse to it, and to have 
proposed it very unwillingly, in compliance with the 
positive command of the king, who was the real 
author of the measure. However this may be, the 
new ministry, which, as members of Parliament, had 
opposed the adoption of this policy, very naturally 
evinced a disposition to recede from it. The speech 

64 



PATRICK HENRY 65 

from the throne, at the opening of the session, 
breathed a conciHatory spirit in regard to America; 
and, in the debate upon it in the House of Commons, 
Mr. Pitt attacked the pohcy of the late administra- 
tion with great power. A bill was introduced, soon 
after, for the repeal of the Stamp Act, which, though 
strongly opposed, passed the two Houses by large 
majorities, and became a law. At the same time, 
another law was passed, declaratory of the right of 
Parliament to bind the Colonies in all cases 
whatsoever. 

This prompt and apparently good-humored retreat 
from the course which had been so injudiciously 
entered upon gave entire satisfaction throughout 
the Colonies, and restored for a moment the cor- 
dial feeling towards the mother country that pre- 
vailed at the close of the war. Public rejoicings, 
including expressions of the warmest gratitude to 
the friends of the Colonies, at home and abroad, 
took place in all quarters. The Virginia Assembly 
voted an address of thanks to the King and Parlia- 
ment, in which they renewed all their former pro- 
fessions of attachment and loyalty. They, also re- 
solved to erect a statue of the King, and an obelisk 
in honor of the British statesmen who had supported 
the cause of America. A bill was introduced for 
this purpose ; but, in consequence of the less favor- 
able aspect which the affair shortly after assumed in 
England, it was never acted on. 

Had the British Government, at this period, per- 
severed with consistency and good-faith in the pol- 
icy which apparently dictated the repeal of the Stamp 

A. B., VOL. III. — 5 



66 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

Act, there can be no doubt that the good feehng 
produced by that repeal would have been maintained, 
and would have prevailed for a long time in the re- 
lations between the two parties. But this was not 
the case; and the course actually pursued was one 
which it would be as difficult to reconcile with any 
consistent scheme of administration, as well as with 
a prudent regard to the rights and feelings of the 
Colonies. 

Occasional concessions gave an appearance of 
weakness and indecision to the action of the minis- 
try, while the extreme severity displayed on other 
occasions irritated the minds of the Americans al- 
most to frenzy. Not content with annexing to the 
repeal of the Stamp Act a declaratory law, which 
was fitted of itself to give an ungracious aspect to 
the whole proceeding, the ministry seemed to have 
taken particular pains to disavow any intention for 
which the Colonies could properly be grateful, and 
publicly treated with contempt the demonstrations of 
satisfaction which had, in fact, been shown in 
America. Townshend, the new chancellor of the 
exchequer, remarked, in a speech made the follow- 
ing year, in the debate on the supplies, '' that he had 
voted for the repeal of the Stamp Act, not because it 
was not a good Act, but because there appeared to 
be a propriety in repealing it. He added, that he re- 
peated the sentiment in order that the galleries might 
hear him; and that, after this, he did not expect to 
have his statue erected in America." In accordance 
with these views, the plan of raising a revenue in the 
Colonies was immediately revived. A law was 



PATRICK HENRY 6/ 

passed, the same year, imposing new duties upon 
various articles imported into the Colonies, and par- 
ticularly tea; and, in order to show the settled de- 
termination of the ministry to persist, at all hazards, 
in their pretensions, additional troops were sent to 
America and quartered in the principal northern 
cities. 

This headstrong spirit in the cabinet could not 
well produce any other results than such as those 
which followed, and which are familiarly known as 
a part of the general history of the country. Vir- 
ginia, though prominent in resistance to the Stamp 
Act, seems to have been treated with less severity 
than some of the other Colonies. This is attributed, 
by Mr. Wirt, to the personal character of the Vir- 
ginian governors, Fauquier and Botetourt, who are 
represented as having endeavored to maintain, as far 
as possible, a good understanding between the par- 
ties; while it seems to have been the object of the 
Bernards and Hutchinsons, of the Eastern States, 
to envenom existing animosities, and push them as 
rapidly as possible to extremities. The greater con- 
sideration which was extended by the mother coun- 
try to the Colony of Virginia tended probably to 
diminish a little, on her side, the activity of 
opposition. 

On the repeal of the Stamp Act, the Assembly, as 
remarked above, adopted resolutions of a highly 
loyal character ; and it does not appear that any new 
proceedings took place in reference to the relations 
with the mother country until the session of 1768-9. 
On the last day of that session, a series of resolutions 



68 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

was adopted, asserting in emphatic terms the right 
of the Colony to be exempt from all taxes excepting 
such as might be imposed by her own Legislature, 
and remonstrating vigorously against the recent acts 
of the British Government. The result of this meas- 
ure was an immediate dissolution of the House of 
Assembly by the governor. The members were all 
reelected, and returned with augmented ardor to the 
post of duty. The next step, in the course of re- 
sistance to the arbitrary pretensions of the ministry, 
was the adoption by the Assembly of a series of reso- 
lutions, moved by Dabney Carr, and providing for 
the appointment of a committee of the Legislature 
to correspond with the Legislatures of the other 
Colonies. The measure was moved in committee 
of the whole on the 12th of March, 1773, and was 
the first movement made in any part of the country 
towards a concert of action between the Colonies. 

Henry had constantly been a member of the House 
from the time of his first election, and took, no 
doubt, an active part on both these occasions, al- 
though no particular account has been preserved of 
his course in regard to the resolutions of 1768-9. 
He supported those of Mr. Carr in a powerful 
speech, and was appointed a member of the Com- 
mittee of Correspondence. He seems, at this time, 
to have become somewhat more studious in regard 
to the decorum of his external appearance than he 
had formerly been ; and is described by one who was 
present at the debate on Carr's resolutions as wear- 
ing a peach-blossom-colored coat, and dark wig, ter- 
minating in a bag, in accordance with the fashion 



PATRICK HENRY 69 

of that day. He was now in full practice at the bar, 
and was particularly conspicuous in the defence of 
criminal cases, where he shone without a rival. In 
civil actions, involving the technical book learning 
of the profession, he was still unable to cope on equal 
terms with the leading barristers, and only recovered 
his advantage, and displayed his full strength, when 
the question was of such a nature that he was at 
liberty to appeal to the great principles of natural 
justice. 

But events of high importance were now succeed- 
ing each other with a rapidity which left to those 
who took an active part in political affairs but little 
leisure for professional pursuits or private business 
of any description. The attempt to enforce the new 
duty on tea was met by the destruction of the first 
cargo that arrived at Boston, while yet on board the 
ship in which it came. In retribution for this act 
of summary justice, the British government with- 
drew from that town its privileges jas a port of entry, 
by the law commonly called the Boston Port Bill. 
The situation of Boston under this infliction called 
forth public expressions of the warmest sympathy 
from various quarters. The Virginia legislature 
was in session at the time when intelligence of the 
enactment of the Boston Port Bill reached this coun- 
try. The bill was to take effect on the first of June, 
1774. The Assembly immediately passed an order 
setting apart that day to be observed as a season of 
public fasting, humiliation, and prayer. In conse- 
quence of this order, Governor Dunmore on the fol- 
lowing day dissolved the House. The members 



70 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

forthwith repaired to the Raleigh tavern, and, after 
dehberating on the course which it was proper to 
pursue under existing circumstances, unanimously 
adopted an Association, which contained a proposal 
for the meeting of a General Congress. 

In pursuance of these proceedings, delegates were 
elected shortly after by the several counties, to meet, 
on the 1st of August following, for the purpose of 
considering further of the state of public affairs, and 
particularly of appointing deputies to the General 
Congress. The delegates accordingly assembled at 
Williamsburg, at the appointed time, and proceeded 
to transact the business committed to them. They 
adopted resolutions, inwhich they pledged themselves 
to make common cause with Boston at all hazards, 
and to suspend all commercial intercourse with Great 
Britain until the existing difficulties should be ad- 
justed. As deputies to the General Congress they 
designated Peyton Randolph, Richard Henry Lee, 
George Washington, Patrick Henry, Richard Bland, 
Benjamin Harrison, and Edmund Pendleton. The 
president of the Convention, Peyton Randolph, was 
authorized to call another meeting, if occasion 
should require. 

Notwithstanding the lengths to which the con- 
troversy with the mother country had now pro- 
ceeded, and the bitterness of feeling which had been 
generated by it, the idea of complete independence 
was still admitted with reluctance by the greater 
part of even the more active patriots, and had not 
become familiar to the people at large. A few per- 
sons only, of deeper thought and a keener foresight 



PATRICK HENRY 7 1 

into future events than the rest, already perceived 
that this result was inevitable. Patrick Henry was 
one of the number, and Mr. Wirt has recorded a 
very interesting conversation that occurred about 
this time, in which Henry developed his views, with 
his characteristic boldness, and with almost pro- 
phetic sagacity; the substance of which is here 
related. 

The conversation was held at the house of Colonel 
Samuel Overton, who, in the presence of several 
other gentlemen, inquired of Henry whether he sup- 
posed that Great Britain would drive her Colonies 
to extremities ; and, if so, what would be the issue of 
the war. " Sir," said Henry in reply, after looking 
round the company to see that none but confidential 
persons were present, '' she will drive us to extremi- 
ties; no accommodation will take place; hostilities 
will soon commence, and a desperate and bloody con- 
test it will be." " Do you think," continued Over- 
ton, " that, destitute as we are of arms, ammunition, 
ships of war, and money to procure them, we can 
possibly make any effectual resistance to the forces 
which Great Britain will send against us?" "To 
be candid with you," replied Henry, " I doubt 
whether we should be able to cope single-handed 
with so formidable an adversary; but," continued 
he, rising from his seat, with great vivacity, *' do you 
suppose that France, Spain, and Holland, the natural 
enemies of Great Britain, will look on quietly and 
see us crushed ? Will Louis the Sixteenth be asleep 
at such a crisis? No, Sir! When he shall be sat- 
isfied, by the vigor of our resistance, and by our 



72 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

declaration of independence, that we are in earnest, 
he will furnish us with supplies, send us fleets and 
armies to fight our battles for us, and make a treaty, 
offensive and defensive, with us against our unnat- 
ural mother. Spain and Holland will join the alli- 
ance; our Independence will be established, and we 
shall take our place among the nations of the earth." 
On the 5th of September, 1774, the deputies to 
the General Congress met at Carpenter's Hall, in 
Philadelphia. Peyton Randolph was chosen presi- 
dent. After the formal organization had been com- 
pleted, the proceedings were opened by a speech 
from Henry, which was followed by another from 
Richard Henry Lee. No report of these speeches 
has been preserved, but they are represented by Mr. 
Wirt, on the authority of those who heard them, as 
having been in the highest degree powerful and im- 
pressive. Committees were shortly after appointed 
to prepare a petition to the king, an address to the 
people of England, and another to the inhabitants of 
British America. In consequence of their general 
reputation, as well as of the splendid display of elo- 
quence which they had already made, Henry and 
Lee were intrusted respectively with the duty of 
preparing the first and second of these documents. 
It appeared, however, in the sequel, that the capacity 
of these gentlemen for literary composition and 
regular argument was not upon a level with their 
gifts in speech. The drafts which they reported 
gave, in both cases, so little satisfaction, that they 
were recommitted, and others substituted for them, 
the petition to the king having been drafted by Mr. 



PATRICK HENRY 73 

Jay, and the address to the people of England by Mr. 
Dickinson. 

Judge Chase, of Maryland, who was a member of 
this Congress, on hearing the first speeches of Henry 
and Lee, walked across the floor to the seat of his 
colleague, and said to him, in an under -tone : " We 
may as well go home; we are not able to legislate 
with these men." After their talent for transacting 
the public affairs had been tested, the judge was 
heard to remark : " I find, after all, they are but 
men, and, in mere matters of business, but very com- 
mon men." 

No account has been preserved of any further pro- 
ceedings of Henry in this Congress, which closed its 
sittings in October. On his return home, Henry 
was, of course, surrounded by his neighbors, who 
were eager to learn the particulars of the debates, 
and inquired, among other things, whom he thought 
the greatest man in Congress. '' If you speak of 
eloquence," replied Henry, " Mr. Rutledge, of South 
Carolina, is by far the greatest orator; but if you 
speak of solid information and sound judgment. 
Colonel Washington is unquestionably the greatest 
man on that floor." Washington, though still com- 
paratively young, had already developed, in a pro- 
tracted career of service, his eminent capacity for 
military affairs and the practical despatch of busi- 
ness ; he had been for many years a member of the 
Assembly, and had exhibited, under all circum- 
stances, and on various trying occasions, the moral 
elevation of character which was the great secret of 
his subsequent influence and success. 



74 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

On the 20th of March, 1775, ^^e Virginia Conven- 
tion, which had met the preceding year at WilHams- 
burg, came together for the second time at Rich- 
mond. Henry was a member of this body. It has 
already been remarked that the pubHc opinion and 
feehng throughout the Colonies were not yet pre- 
pared for a Declaration of Independence. This was 
evinced, so far as Virginia was concerned, by the 
terms of the instructions given by the Williamsburg 
Convention to their deputies in Congress, which, in 
connection with a vigorous and plain-spoken state- 
ment of grievances, breathe a spirit of loyalty to the 
king and attachment to the mother country. 

A similar tone marked the proceedings of the Con- 
gress itself ; and, when the Williamsburg Convention 
met for the second time, the prevailing sentiment 
among the members was appparently pacific and con- 
ciliatory. The first two days were employed in 
passing resolutions of a merely formal and compli- 
mentary character in honor of the deputies to Con- 
gress, and of the legislature of Jamaica, which had 
presented a petition to the king in favor of the claims 
of the Colonies. These proceedings appeared to 
Henry altogether too tame for the exigencies of the 
crisis. He had made up his mind that the time for 
conciliation was over, and that the controversy had 
reached the point where there was no other issue but 
an appeal to actual force. Preparation for the mili- 
tary defence of the Colony was, of course, in this 
view, the only appropriate measure, and Henry con- 
ceived that the activity of the Convention ought to 
take this direction. He accordingly moved the fol- 
lowing resolutions : 



PATRICK HENRY 75 

'' Resolved, That a well-regulated militia, com- 
posed of gentlemen and yeomen, is the natural 
strength and only security of a free government; 
that such a militia in this Colony would for ever ren- 
der it unnecessary for the mother country to keep 
among us, for the purpose of our defence, any stand- 
ing army of mercenary soldiers, always subversive of 
the quiet and dangerous to the liberties of the people, 
and would obviate the pretext of taxing us for their 
support. 

" That the establishment of such a militia is at 
this time peculiarly necessary, by the state of our 
laws, for the protection and defence of the country, 
some of which are already expired, and others will 
shortly be so ; and that the known remissness of gov- 
ernment, in calling us together in a legislative ca- 
pacity, renders it too insecure, in this time of danger 
and distress, to rely that opportunity will be given 
of renewing them in General Assembly, or making 
any provision to secure our inestimable rights and 
liberties from those further violations with which 
they are threatened. 

'' Resolved, therefore. That this Colony be imme- 
diately put into a state of defence, and that a com- 
mittee be raised to prepare a plan for embodying, 
arming, and disciplining such a number of men as 
may be sufficient for that purpose." 

On this occasion, as in the debate on the Stamp 
Act, the views of Henry were not only far in ad- 
vance of the general sentiment of the country, but 
went beyond those of the most active patriots in the 
Convention. Bland, Harrison, and Pendleton, who 



76 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

had been members of Congress, with Robert C. 
Nicholas, one of the ablest and most respected citi- 
zens, resisted with all their might the passage of 
these resolutions. They urged, in opposition to 
them, with great eloquence, the more conciliatory 
temper that had lately been professed by the king 
and his ministers, the utter hopelessness of a con- 
test with Great Britain, the intimate and endearing 
character of the ties that had hitherto connected the 
Colonies with the mother country, and the advan- 
tages of various kinds which had accrued to both the 
parties from the connection. 

It is apparent, from the arguments which they em- 
ployed, that these eminent statesmen and patriots 
still clung with confidence to the hope of preserving 
the union. Henry replied to their arguments, and 
sustained his resolutions in a speech which is given 
by Mr. Wirt in a report furnished by Judge Tucker, 
who heard it delivered. This is one of the most 
powerful specimens that have come down to us of 
Henry's eloquence. It is inserted here from the re- 
port of Judge Tucker, with the substitution of the 
first for the third person. 

'' No man can think more highly than I do of the 
patriotism, as well as abilities, of the very worthy 
gentlemen who have just addressed the House, But 
different men often see the same subject in different 
lights ; and, therefore, I hope it will not be thought 
disrespectful to those gentlemen, if, entertaining, as 
I do, opinions of a character very opposite to theirs, 
I shall speak forth my sentiments freely and without 
reserve. This is no time for ceremony. The ques- 



PATRICK HENRY ^^ 

tion before the House is one of awful moment to the 
country. For my own part, I consider it as noth- 
ing less than a question of freedom or slavery. And 
in proportion to the magnitude of the subject ought 
to be the freedom of the debate. It is only in this 
way that we can hope to arrive at truth, and fulfil 
the great responsibility which we hold to God and 
our country. Should I keep back my opinions at 
such a time, through fear of giving offence, I should 
consider myself as guilty of treason towards my 
country, and of an act of disloyalty towards the 
majesty of Heaven, which I revere above all earthly 
kings. 

'' Mr. President, it is natural to man to indulge 
in the illusions of Hope. We are apt to shut our 
eyes against a painful truth, and listen to the song 
of that siren, till she transforms us into beasts. Is 
this the part of wise men, engaged in a great and 
arduous struggle for liberty? Are we disposed to 
be of the number of those, who having eyes, see not, 
and having ears, hear not, the things which so-nearly 
concern their temporal salvation? For my part, 
whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing 
to know the whole truth ; to know the worst, and to 
provide for it. 

" I have but one lamp by which my feet are 
guided ; and that is the lamp of experience. I know 
of no way of judging of the future but by the past. 
And judging by the past, I wish to know what there 
has been in the conduct of the British ministry for 
the last ten years to justify those hopes with which 
gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves 



78 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

and the House. Is it that insidious smile with 
which our petition has been lately received? Trust 
it not, Sir ; it will prove a snare to your feet. Suf- 
fer not yourselves to be betrayed by a kiss. Ask 
yourselves how this gracious reception of our peti- 
tion comports with those warlike preparations which 
cover our waters and darken our land. Are fleets 
the armies necessary to a work of love and recon- 
ciliation? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling 
to be reconciled that force must be called in to win 
back our love, Let us not deceive ourselves, Sir. 
These are the implements of war and subjugation; 
the last arguments to which kings resort. I ask 
gentlemen, Sir, what means this martial array, if its 
purpose be not to force us to submission, Can gen- 
tlemen assign any other possible motive for it ? Has 
Great Britain any enemy in this quarter of the world 
to call for all this accumulation of navies and 
armies? No, Sir, she has none. They are meant 
for us; they can be meant for no other. They are 
sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains 
which the British ministry have been so long forg- 
ing. And what have we to oppose to them ? Shall we 
try argument? Sir, we have been trying that for 
the last ten years. Have we anything new to offer 
upon the subject? Nothing. We have held the 
subject up in every light of which it is capable; but 
it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to entreaty 
and humble supplication? What terms shall we 
find which have not been already exhausted? Let 
us not, I beseech you. Sir, deceive ourselves longer. 
Sir, we have done everything that could be done to 



PATRICK HENRY 79 

avert the storm which is now coming on. We have 
petitioned; we have remonstrated; we have supph- 
cated; we have prostrated ourselves before the 
throne, and have implored its interposition to arrest 
the tyrannical hands of the Ministry and Parliament. 
Our petitions have been slighted ; our remonstrances 
have produced additional violence and insult; our 
supplications have been disregarded; and we have 
been spurned with contempt from the foot of the 
throne. In vain, after these things, may we indulge 
the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. There 
is no longer any room for hope. If we wish to be 
free; if we mean to preserve inviolate those inesti- 
mable privileges for which we have been so long con- 
tending; if we mean not basely to abandon the noble 
struggle in which we have been so long engaged, 
and which we have pledged ourselves never to aban- 
don, until the glorious object of our contest shall be 
obtained ; we must fight ! I repeat it. Sir, we must 
fight ! An appeal to arms, and to the God of hosts, 
is all that is left us. 

" They tell us. Sir, that we are weak ; unable to 
cope with so formidable an adversary. But when 
shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week or 
the next year? Will it be when we are totally dis- 
armed, and when a British guard shall be stationed 
in every house ? Shall we gather strength by irreso- 
lution and inaction ? Shall we acquire the means of 
effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs, 
and hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until 
our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot? 
Sir, we are not weak, if we make a proper use of 



8o AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

those means which the God of nature hath placed in 
our power. Three milHons of people, armed in the 
holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that 
which we possess, are invincible by any force which 
our enemy can send against us. Besides, Sir, we 
shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just 
God, who presides over the destinies of nations, and 
who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. 
The battle. Sir, is not to the strong alone ; it is to the 
vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, Sir, we have 
no election (choice). If we were base enough to de- 
sire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. 
There is no retreat but in submission and slavery. 
Our chains are forged. Their clanking may be 
heard on the plains of Boston. The war is inevi- 
table; and let it come! I repeat it, Sir, let it come! 

" It is vain. Sir, to extenuate the matter. Gen- 
tlemen may cry, Peace, peace ; but there is no peace. 
The war is actually begun. The next gale that 
sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the 
clash of resounding arms. Our brethren are already 
in the field. Why stand we here idle? What is it 
that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is 
life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at 
the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Al- 
mighty God! I know not what course others may 
take; but, as for me, give me liberty, or give me 
death! " 

This spirited and powerful speech determined the 
character of the proceedings of the Convention. Af- 
ter another eloquent speech from Richard Henry 
Lee, in support of the resolutions, a committee, of 



PATRICK HENRY 8 1 

which Henry and Washington were among the 
members, was appointed to prepare and report a 
plan for the organization of the mihtia. The re- 
port was accordingly made, and the plan adopted; 
after which, and the transaction of some other busi- 
ness of less importance, the Convention closed its 
session. 

A. B., VOL. III.— 6 



CHAPTER V 

Military Movements. — Henry appointed Commander-in-Chief 
of the Virginia Forces. — Resigns his Commission. — Elected 
the first Governor under the new Constitution. 

Under the present system of conducting political 
and military affairs in the Christian world, it rarely 
happens that the same persons, whose opinions in 
council and eloquence in debate determine the com- 
mencement of hostile relations between two coun- 
tries, are called upon themselves to share the per- 
sonal hardships and dangers of the conflict. The 
political leaders who direct the concerns of nations 
content themselves, in general, with declaring wars 
and leave it to others to carry them on. It has 
sometimes been thought that this division of labor 
has a tendency to render wars more frequent, and 
that statesmen would be less prompt in urging a re- 
sort to arms if the blood which is to flow were to be 
their own. However this may be, it was pretty soon 
apparent that Patrick Henry was not one of those 
persons who are disposed to shrink themselves from 
the dangers to which they may deem it necessary to 
expose their countrymen. We have thus far seen 
him engaged in the various civil employments of cul- 
tivator, merchant, lawyer, and statesman. At the 
next stage in his career, we find him assuming the 

82 



PATRICK HENRY 83 

character of a military leader, and discharging his 
duties with a spirit and efficiency which seem to 
show that, if circumstances of a wholly accidental 
nature had not checked his progress, his energies 
would probably have taken this direction and given 
him as high a rank among the warriors of his coun- 
try as he has in fact obtained among her orators 
and statesmen. 

When the state of the controversy with the mother 
country began to render it probable that it would be 
necessary to resort to arms, the Governors of the 
several Colonies, either in consequence of instruc- 
tions from home, or of a concert among themselves, 
attempted, at about the same time, to get possession 
of the military stores at all the various points at 
which they had been collected. On the 20th of 
April, 1775, the day following the celebrated 19th 
of April, which was distinguished by the attempt of 
Governor Gage, in Massachusetts, to seize the mili- 
tary stores at Cambridge and Concord in Massachu- 
setts, a similar proceeding took place in Virginia 
under the direction of Lord Dunmore. About mid- 
night. Captain Collins, of the armed schooner 
Magdalen, then lying at Burwell's Ferry, on James 
River, entered the city of Williamsburg, at the head 
of a body of marines, and carried away from the 
public mazagine about twenty barrels of powder, 
which he succeeded in getting on board his schooner 
before day. 

The next morning, when the transaction was made 
known, it created great excitement among the in- 
habitants, and a considerable number of them mus- 



84 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

tered in arms for the purpose of compelling Captain 
Collins to restore the powder. The members of the 
municipal government with difficulty restrained this 
tumultuous movement ; but afterwards, in their cor- 
porate capacity, they addressed a memorial to Lord 
Dunmore on the subject. The Governor returned a 
verbal answer, in which he stated, that, having heard 
of an insurrection in a neighboring county, he had 
thought it necessary to remove the powder to a place 
of safety, but assured the petitioners, upon his word 
of honor, that, whenever it was wanted for any 
proper purpose, it should be delivered. This assur- 
ance, supported by the influence of Peyton Randolph, 
R. C. Nicholas, and other prominent and popular 
citizens, restored for a time the public tranquillity. 

In the course of the following night, however, a 
false report was circulated that a body of marines 
had again landed from the Magdalen, at some dis- 
tance from the city, for the purpose of plunder. The 
inhabitants again rose in arms, and, by the interven- 
tion of the same eminent patriots, were a second time 
persuaded to lay them aside. The next day, when 
tranquillity was entirely restored, the Governor sent 
a message into the city by one of the magistrates, to 
inform the people that if they offered the least vio- 
lence to his secretary. Captain Foy, or to Captain 
Collins, he would set the slaves at liberty and lay the 
town in ashes. This threat, issued without any ap- 
parent necessity, since the two officers whom it was 
intended to protect had been quietly walking the 
streets without molestation throughout the whole 
disturbance, increased the irritation of the inhabi- 



PATRICK HENRY 85 

tants, which did not, however, at the moment, show 
itself in any further act of open insurrection. 

While the accounts of these proceedings were 
rapidly circulating throughout the colony, intelli- 
gence came on from the east of the events of the 
19th of April at Lexington and Concord. The 
effect was electrical. The volunteer companies 
which had recently been formed for purposes of 
discipline, under the direction of Lord Dunmore 
himself, assembled in arms in every county. By 
the 27th of April, seven hundred men, well-armed 
and disciplined, styling themselves friends of con- 
stitutional liberty and America, were collected at 
Fredericksburg, with the intention of marching upon 
the capital. This movement was checked by an ex- 
press, received from Peyton Randolph on the 29th of 
April, stating that the gentlemen of Williamsburg 
and its neighborhood were satisfied with the result of 
the seizure of the powder, and advised the volunteers 
to proceed no farther. On the receipt of this ex- 
press, a council was held, consisting of a hundred 
and two persons, officers of companies, or delegates 
to the provincial Convention, who, after expressing 
in the strongest terms their opinion of the Gov- 
ernor's proceedings, and their readiness to march 
at a moment's warning, whenever it might be nec- 
essar}^ in defence of their rights and liberty, recom- 
mended to their comrades to return for the present 
to their homes. They also sent off messengers with 
advices to the same effect to other meetings of a 
similar kind which had been called in several other 
parts of the colony. 



86 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

In this way the movement was checked for the 
moment in every county, excepting Hanover, where 
Henry had again fixed his residence. Far from 
sharing the soHcitude that seems to have been felt by 
the prominent patriots of WilHamsburg to suppress 
any violent ebullitions of popular feeling, he was 
rather disposed to encourage them, and avowed to 
his confidential friends that he considered the seizure 
of the powder as a fortunate occurrence. Con- 
vinced that hostilities were inevitable, he was pleased 
with any incident which naturally tended to awaken 
the military spirit of the Colony and induce the peo- 
ple to place themselves at once in a condition for 
effectual resistance. As soon as he received intelli- 
gence of the proceedings at Williamsburg, he imme- 
diately summoned the members of the volunteer 
company of Hanover county to meet him in arms at 
Newcastle, on the 2d of May, on business of urgent 
importance. He also called together the county com- 
mittee at the same time and place. 

At this meeting, after a powerful and eloquent 
address from Henry, on the topics .appropriate to the 
occasion, it was decided to march at once to Wil- 
liamsburg, and either recover the powder or make 
reprisals to an equal amount upon the money in the 
public treasury. Captain Meredith, who com- 
manded the volunteers, resigned his commission, but 
consented to serve as lieutenant under Henry, who 
was immediately elected captain, and without delay 
took up the line of march for Williamsburg. Ensign 
Goodall, in the meantime, was ordered to cross the 
country to King William county, which was the 



PATRICK HENRY 8/ 

place of residence of the King's Receiver-General, 
Richard Corbin, and to obtain from him three hun- 
dred and thirty pounds, the estimated value of the 
powder, or take him prisoner. The party reached 
the house of Mr. Corbin in the night, and sur- 
rounded it for the purpose of preventing his escape. 
The next morning they were assured by the ladies 
of the family that the Receiver-General was not in 
the house; and, after satisfying themselves that the 
statement was correct, they left the place and re- 
joined Henry, agreeably to their orders, at Don- 
castle's ordinary, about sixteen miles above 
Williamsburg. 

The movement of Henry created an intense excite- 
ment throughout the Colony, and revived at once 
the military ardor which had been momentarily 
checked by the moderating influence of the patriots 
at Williamsburg. The volunteer companies rose 
again in all quarters and marched across the coun- 
try to join Henry. It is supposed that not less than 
five thousand men were on their way to meet him. 
The royalists were alarmed. The Governor imme- 
diately sent his family on board the Fozvcy man-of- 
war, which was lying in the harbor, and issued a 
proclamation, in which he denounced the movement 
as treasonable, and ordered the people to oppose and 
resist it. Even the prominent patriots inclined, as 
before, to a pacific course, and despatched several 
expresses in succession to Henry, for the purpose of 
persuading him to recede from his design and dis- 
band his troops. Henry paid no attention to these 
remonstrances, but resolutely pursued his march. 



88 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

until, on arriving at Doncastle's ordinary, he was met 
by a messenger from the Governor, bringing him a 
bill of exchange, drawn by the Receiver-General, for 
the value of the powder. 

In the meantime, the marines from the Fowey 
had been landed, and apprehensions were entertained 
by some that they would make reprisals, for the 
money thus extorted by Henry, upon the public 
treasury. Henry, in consequence, addressed a letter 
to Mr. Nicholas, the treasurer of the Colony, in 
which he offered, if it should be thought necessary 
or expedient, to detach from his own troops a guard 
sufficient for the protection of the treasury. 
Nicholas declined the offer, and Henry returned 
with his volunteers to Hanover. Two days after 
the Governor issued a proclamation denouncing the 
conduct of '* a certain Patrick Henry " as treason- 
able, and cautioning the people not to give him any 
aid or countenance. No attempt was, however, 
made to institute legal proceedings against him or 
to give him any personal molestation. Immediately 
after his return, he proceeded to Philadelphia to take 
his seat in Congress. He was escorted by a numer- 
ous cavalcade of his neighbors as far as the Poto- 
mac, and was met at every stage on his route by ad- 
dresses and other demonstrations of the public re- 
gard. No accounts are preserved of his action at 
this session of Congress; and a series of events oc- 
curred soon after in Virginia which called for his 
service in another capacity, and withdrew him from 
the field of national politics, to which he never after 
returned. 



PATRICK HENRY 89 

About this time the concihatory propositions of 
Lord North arrived, and the Governor convoked a 
meeting of the House of Burgesses. He appeared 
to consider the troubles as entirely at an end, and 
brought back his lady and family from their retreat 
on board the Fozvey to his residence at Williams- 
burg. Scarcely, however, had this arrangement 
been carried into effect, when he took alarm again 
at some fresh demonstrations of patriotic feeling 
which occurred in the city, and withdrew with his 
family to the sloop of war from which he never re- 
turned. The House of Burgesses remonstrated 
strongly against this proceeding, but, finding the 
Governor resolute, they at length adjourned to the 
1 2th of October, having first acted on and rejected 
the proposals of the British ministry. Before the 
adjournment, they summoned a meeting of the Vir- 
ginia Convention, which assembled at Richmond on 
the 24th of July. 

The proceedings of this body, of which Henry 
was a member, were marked with great vigor and 
decision. Assuming that the Governor, by retiring 
from the capital and taking up his residence on board 
a ship-of-war, had virtually abdicated his authority, 
they constituted a Committee of Safety, to represent 
in his absence the executive branch of the govern- 
ment. An ordinance was also passed for a military 
organization of the Colony, which provided, among 
other things, for raising two regiments of regular 
soldiers, to consist of one thousand and twenty pri- 
vates, rank and file. The Convention next pro- 
ceeded to elect officers for these regiments ; and the 



90 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

choice they made shows in a striking manner how 
strongly the pubHc mind had been impressed by the 
vigor and efficiency of the late movement of Henry. 
Although till now wholly inexperienced in military 
affairs, he was appointed not only colonel of the first 
regiment, but commander-in-chief of all the forces 
raised, or to be raised, in Virginia. William Wood- 
ford, who had distinguished himself in the preced- 
ing war, was appointed colonel of the second regi- 
ment. Washington had already been appointed by 
Congress commander-in-chief of the- continental 
army; and it does not appear that there was any 
other person in the Colony, whose pretensions, on 
any other ground but that of mere seniority, could 
be supposed for a moment to outweigh the brilliant 
services of Henry, both civil and military. 

It appears, however, from subsequent occurrences, 
that his appointment was not approved by the older 
patriots, who probably felt some jealousy of the 
rapid progress which he had already made in the 
political career, and some disgust at the freedom 
with which he had opposed their views on the most 
important subjects. The Committee of Safety, 
which constituted for the time the executive power 
of the colony, was composed of this class of per- 
sons, under the presidency of Edmund Pendleton, 
with whom Henry had been brought into collision 
at the second meeting of the Convention. The ar- 
rangement of this body was such as to render it 
necessary for Henry to resign his commission as 
colonel and commander-in-chief very shortly after 
his appointment, and before he had had an oppor- 



PATRICK HENRY 9 1 

tunity to exhibit the extent of his capacity for this 
department of the pubhc service. 

In consequence of the measures adopted by the 
Convention for the mihtary organization of the Col- 
ony, Lord Dunmore considered it as in a state of 
rebelHon, and employed himself, with the naval and 
military forces under his command, in harassing the 
settlements on the coast. At the close of October, 
Captain Squire, of the British sloop of war Otter, 
threatened an attack on Hampton, in consequence 
of which the inhabitants sent to the Committee of 
Safety, at Williamsburg, for relief. Colonel Wood- 
ford, of the second regiment, was immediately de- 
spatched with a company of riflemen to take com- 
mand of the troops. The attack was repulsed with- 
out much difficulty. Lord Dunmore next directed 
his attention to the county of Norfolk, where his 
movements became so distressing that it appeared 
indispensable to check his career. Colonel Wood- 
ford was the person called upon by the Committee 
of Safety to perform this service. He was ordered 
to cross the James River, at Sandy Point, with eight 
hundred men, and bring Lord Dunmore to action. 

Henry had been desirous to be employed himself 
on this expedition, and had expressed his wishes to 
the Committee of Safety. As commander-in-chief, 
it would seem that he had a right to decide at what 
point his own presence would be most useful ; but 
the committee, without regard to this consideration, 
had given the preference to Woodford. Henry's 
reasons for dissatisfaction did not end here. Colo- 
nel Woodford, after having been despatched on this 



92 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

expedition, considered himself as under die imme- 
diate direction of tlie Committee of Safety, or of the 
Convention, when in session, and made no communi- 
cations whatever to Henry. On the 6th of Decem- 
ber, Henry wrote him a letter, stating, in civil terms, 
that he had received no despatches from him for a 
long time, and requesting to be informed of his 
situation and proceedings. Woodford sent him the 
desired information, but remarked, at the same time, 
that, " when joined, he should always esteem him- 
self immediately under the command of Henry, and 
would obey accordingly ; but, when sent to command 
a separate and distinct body of troops, under the 
immediate instructions of the Committee of Safety, 
whenever that body, or the honorable Convention, 
were sitting, he should look upon it as his indispen- 
sable duty to address his intelligence to them, as the 
supreme power in the Colony." 

The question having thus been brought to a direct 
issue between the two officers was referred by Henry 
to the decision of the Committee of Safety. In the 
meantime, Woodford had obtained a brilliant vic- 
tory over the British at the Great Bridge, which, by 
stamping his appointment with the seal of success, 
would naturally confirm the confidence of the Com- 
mittee in their own judgment, and their preference 
for Woodford over Henry. The correctness of 
Henry's views of the subject was, however, too ap- 
parent to be seriously questioned, and the Commit- 
tee, notwithstanding their partiality for Woodford, 
adopted the following order : 

"/w Committee, December, 1775. Resolved, 



PATRICK HENRY 93 

unanimously, that Colonel Woodford, although act- 
ing upon a separate and detached command, ought 
to correspond with Colonel Henry, and make returns 
to him, at proper times, of the state and condition of 
the forces under his command; and also that he is 
subject to his orders., when the Convention or the 
Committee of Safety is not sitting; but that, whilst 
either of those bodies is sitting, he is to receive his 
orders from one of them." 

The letter of the chairman of the Committee, Mr. 
Pendleton, enclosing this order to Woodford, is 
given by Mr. Wirt, and exhibits not only partiality 
for Woodford, but a feeling of positive unkindness 
towards Henry. '' Believe me. Sir," says Pendle- 
ton, " the unlucky step of calling that gentleman 
from our councils, where he was useful, into the 
field in an important station, the duties of which he 
must, in the nature of things, be an entire stranger 
to, has given me many an anxious and uneasy mo- 
ment." And again, '' We shall not intermeddle 
with the appointment of a general officer by Con- 
gress, lest it should be thought propriety requires our 
calling, or rather recommending, our present first 
officer to that station." There is some plausibility 
in the former suggestion; but Mr. Pendleton well 
knew that genius, like that of Henry, supplies, under 
all circumstances, the want of mere routine. His 
recent campaign, at the head of the Hanover volun- 
teers, had sufficiently shown his capacity for actual 
service in the field. 

A new aspect was given to the position of Henry 
as commander-in-chief, by the arrival of a corps of 



94 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

auxiliary troops, which had been requested from 
North CaroHna, and which consisted of five or six 
hundred men, commanded by Colonel Howe. This 
officer, whose commission was prior in date to that of 
Woodford, was permitted by the latter to take com- 
mand of all the forces. In this capacity he ad- 
dressed his communications, as Woodford had done, 
to the Committee of Safety or the Convention, with- 
out regard to the rights of Henry as commander-in- 
chief, who thus found himself set aside, and, as it 
were, superseded, by an officer from another Colony 
of only equal rank. The spirit which prompted 
these proceedings was displayed in a still more de- 
cisive form. 

Six regiments had been raised by the Convention, 
in addition to the two commanded by Henry and 
Woodford; and an application was made to Con- 
gress to take the Virginia troops into Continental 
pay. In acting on this subject. Congress consented 
to the request in favor of the six additional regi- 
ments only. This singular discrimination was, 
doubtless, the result of a suggestion from the Com- 
mittee of Safety, made for the purpose of disgusting 
Henry, and of preventing him from being regarded 
by Congress as a candidate for one of the higher 
commissions. At this point the Convention inter- 
fered in support of the commander-in-chief of their 
election, and remonstrated vigorously against the 
proceedings of Congress, and requested that, if six 
regiments only could be taken into the Continental 
service, the two that were first raised might be placed 
first on the list. Congress acceded to this request, 



PATRICK HENRY 95 

but still gave way to the same malignant influence 
that had dictated the former arrangement, so far as 
to confer the appointment of brigadier-general, in 
the service of the United States, upon Colonels 
Howe and Lewis, offering Henry a commission of 
colonel. This he without hesitation declined, and 
at the same time resigned that which he held from 
the authorities of his own State. 

The resignation of Henry created great discontent 
in the army, by whom he was regarded with en- 
thusiastic admiration and attachment, as the most 
eminent patriot in the State. The troops immedi- 
ately put on mourning, and proceeded in military 
array to his lodgings, where the officers presented to 
him the following address : 

" To Patrick Henry, Jim., Esq. Deeply im- 
pressed with a grateful sense of the obligations we 
lie under to you, for the polite, humane, and tender 
treatment manifested to us throughout the whole of 
your conduct while we had the honor of being under 
your command, permit us to offer you our sincere 
thanks, as the only tribute we have in our power to 
pay to your real merits. Notwithstanding your 
withdrawing yourself from the service fills us with 
the most poignant sorrow, as it at once deprives us 
of our father and general, yet, as gentlemen, we are 
compelled to applaud your spirited resentment to the 
most glaring indignity. May your merit shine as 
conspicuous to the world in general, as it hath done 
to us, and may Heaven shower its choicest blessings 
upon you ! " 

To this address Henry returned the following 
answer : 



96 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

" Gentlemen : I am exceedingly obliged to you 
for your approbation of my conduct. Your address 
does me the highest honor. This kind testimony 
of your regard for me would have been an ample 
reward for services much greater than those which 
I have had the power to perform. I return you, and 
each of you, gentlemen, my best acknowledgments 
for the spirit, alacrity, and zeal, you have constantly 
shown in your several stations. I am unhappy to 
part with you. I leave the service, but I leave my 
heart with you. May God bless you, and give you 
success and safety, and make you the glorious in- 
struments of saving our country! " 

After receiving this address from Henry, the of- 
ficers invited him to dine with them at the Raleigh 
tavern, and were preparing, after dinner, to escort 
him out of town. In the meantime the soldiers had 
assembled in a rather disorderly manner, and de- 
manded their discharge, declaring that they would 
not consent to serve under any other commander 
than Henry. Perceiving that this movement, if not 
checked, might lead to serious consequences, Henry 
concluded to pass another night in town, during 
which he visited the troops at their barracks, and 
urged them to continue in the service, which, as he 
said, he had quitted for reasons interesting to him- 
self alone. His exertions, backed by those of other 
favorite officers, proved successful, and the soldiers 
acquiesced without further difficulty in the new 
arrangement. 

A feeling similar to that which prevailed among 
the troops at Williamsburg, manifested itself, with 



PATRICK HENRY 97 

equal distinctness, in other forms, and particularly 
in an address which was signed by more than ninety 
officers stationed at several different points, and, 
in part, under Colonel Woodford's immediate 
command. 

In consequence of these demonstrations of opin- 
ion and feeling, in regard to the resignation of 
Henry, the Committee of Safety felt themselves 
obliged to publish a defence of their conduct, which 
appeared in a leading newspaper, with the signature 
of A Friend of Truth. The Committee represent 
themselves as having, in the first instance, requested 
that all the State troops should be taken into the 
Continental service, and that, when the Convention 
remonstrated against the discrimination made by 
Congress, the Committee, in transmitting this re- 
monstrance, had particularly urged a compliance 
with it, " as a point of great consequence to our har- 
mony, in which may be involved the good of the 
common cause." The defence, being thus confined 
to a justification of the formal proceedings of the 
Committee, has, of course, no tendency to repel the 
real charge, which is founded in the supposition of 
secret suggestions of an adverse character. 

Such was the termination of the military career of 
Patrick Henry. There can, of course, be but one 
opinion among men of correct feeling in regard to 
the malignant intrigue by which it was brought 
about ; but it may well be doubted whether the result 
was in any way really injurious, either to Henry or 
the country. His peculiar gift was eloquence, for 
which the military service would have afforded no 

A. B., VOL. HI. —7 



98 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

field whatever ; and, supposing even that he had ex- 
hibited, on trial, an aptitude for warlike affairs not 
inferior to his natural talent for public speaking, it 
may be questioned whether the army, at least in any 
other part than that of commander-in-chief, afforded 
as good a field for honorable and useful activity as 
the senate and the bar. 

As the oracle of his native State, at the time be- 
yond comparison the most prominent in the country, 
he occupied as important a place as could well have 
been secured by any other career of service. Had 
his age permitted him to take part in the debates of 
Congress, or to fill executive offices under the new 
Constitution, he might have been rather more ex- 
tensively known to his contemporaries at home and 
abroad; but, on the other hand, by having lived at a 
somewhat earlier period, and connected his name, 
as he did, with the first movements of the Revolu- 
tion, he obtained a very peculiar glory, with which 
hardly any other growing out of the events of that 
time can come into competition. The opposition 
which checked his military career, however unami- 
able and discreditable to those who were concerned 
in it, was perhaps not unnatural, considering the un- 
ceremonious manner in which he had resisted the 
advice and authority of the older political leaders. 
It was fortunate for him that the disgust and jeal- 
ousy which he thus provoked produced no worse 
result than his forced retreat from the army, and a 
passing mortification, for which he was destined to 
receive very early and ample satisfaction from his 
grateful fellow-citizens. 



PATRICK HENRY 99 

The state of the relations between the Colonies 
and the mother country virtually annulled the estab- 
lished forms of government, and it was necessary 
for the Colonies to reorganize their political insti- 
tutions on a new foundation. For this purpose, 
each Colony was regarded as a distinct community, 
possessing, by the laws of nature, an inherent right, 
under existing circumstances, to adopt any form of 
government which it might prefer. The right was 
exercised through the agency of popular conven- 
tions ; and a meeting of this kind was held at Wil- 
liamsburg, in Virginia, on the 6th of May, 1776. 
Henry was elected a member of this body for the 
county of Hanover. On the 1 5th of May, Mr. Cary 
reported, from a committee of the whole House, 
with a suitable preamble, two important resolutions, 
one of which instructed the delegates to the General 
Congress to propose to that body a Declaration of 
Independence and a confederation of the Colonies, 
while the other provided for raising a committee to 
prepare a declaration of rights, and a plan of govern- 
ment for the new Commonwealth of Virginia. 

In pursuance of the second resolution, a commit- 
tee was appointed, consisting of thirty-four of the 
most prominent patriots, including Henry, and, 
among the others, Mr. Madison. On the 12th of 
June, the committee reported a declaration of rights, 
and, on the 29th. a plan of government, both which 
were unanimously adopted by the Convention. The 
declaration was prepared by Jefferson, the constitu- 
tion chiefly by George Mason, a neighbor and inti- 
mate friend of Washington. Jefferson had trans- 



Lof 



lOO AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

mitted from Philadelphia, where he was then In at- 
tendance as a member of Congress, to his friend, 
Mr. Wythe, a plan of government, accompanied by 
a declaration of rights, to be submitted to the Con- 
vention. Before it was received, the plan of the 
committee had already been adopted; but it was 
subsequently modified, in some parts, in accordance 
with Mr. Jefferson's views, and the declaration 
which he had sent was prefixed to it as a preamble. 
This document coincides, in its general outline, and 
in many particular passages, with the Declaration 
of Independence, which was issued, on the 4th of 
July following, by the General Congress; and, as 
Mr. Jefferson's name was not at the time publicly 
connected with the Virginia Declaration, he has 
sometimes, on the strength of this coincidence, been 
accused of plagiarism in preparing that of the 4th 
of July. It is sufficient to say, in answer to this 
imputation, that the plan of government which he 
transmitted to Mr. Wythe, including the Declara- 
tion as it now stands in the statute-book, are still 
preserved, in Mr. Jefferson's handwriting, in the 
archives of Virginia. 

By the new Constitution, the executive power was 
committed to a chief magistrate, with the title of 
governor, to be annually elected by the legislature, 
and to be eligible for three successive terms. For 
the purpose of putting the measure at once in opera- 
tion, the Convention took upon themselves the re- 
sponsibility of designating the chief magistrate, and 
thus obtained an opportunity of compensating 
Henry, by a signal mark of public favor, for the 



PATRICK HENRY lOI 

glaring indignity which, in the language of the ad- 
dress from the troops, had been offered him by the 
Committee of Safety. On proceeding to a choice, 
the votes stood as follows : Patrick Henry, sixty ; 
Thomas Nelson, forty-five; John Page, one. Nel- 
son had been president of the council under the pre- 
ceding government, and was probably put forward 
by the friends of the committee as an opponent to 
Henry. He was afterwards elected a member of 
the new council, but declined the appointment on the 
score of age and infirmity. 

In answer to the notice of his election, communi- 
cated to him by a committee of the Convention, the 
new Governor returned the following address : 

'* To the Honorable the President and House of 
Convention. Gentlemen : The vote of this day, ap- 
pointing me Governor of the Commonwealth, has 
been notified to me, in the most polite and obliging 
manner, by George Mason, Henry Lee, Dudley 
Diggs, John Blair, and Bartholomew Danbridge, 
Esquires. 

" A sense of the high and unmerited honor con- 
ferred upon me by the Convention fills my heart with 
gratitude, which I trust my whole life will manifest. 
I take this earliest opportunity to express my thanks, 
which I wish to convey to you, gentlemen, in the 
strongest terms of acknowledgment. 

" When I reflect that the tyranny of the British 
King and Parliament hath kindled a formidable war, 
now raging throughout this widely-extended conti- 
nent, and in the operations of which this Common- 
wealth must bear so great a part ; and that, from the 



I02 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

events of this war, the lasting happiness or misery of 
a great proportion of the human species will finally 
result : that, in order to preserve this Commonwealth 
from anarchy, and its attendant ruin, and to give 
vigor to our councils and effect to all our measures, 
government hath been necessarily assumed and 
new-modelled ; that it is exposed to numberless haz- 
ards and perils, in its infantine state; that it can 
never attain to maturity, or ripen into firmness, un- 
less it is guided by an affectionate assiduity, and 
managed by great abilities; I lament my want of 
talents; I feel my mind filled with anxiety and un- 
easiness to find myself so unequal to the duties of 
that important station to which I am called by the 
favor of my fellow-citizens at this truly critical con- 
juncture. The errors of my conduct shall be atoned 
for, so far as I am able, by unwearied endeavors to 
secure the freedom and happiness of our common 
country. 

" I shall enter upon the duties of my office, when- 
ever you. Gentlemen, shall be pleased to direct ; rely- 
ing upon the known wisdom and virtue of your hon- 
orable House to supply my defects, and to give per- 
manency and success to that system of government 
which you have founded, and which is so wisely 
calculated to secure equal liberty, and advance hu- 
man happiness. 

" T have the honor to be, Gentlemen, your most 
obedient and very humble servant, 

" P. Henry, Jun/' 

The election of Henry as Governor was received 
with great favor by the public, and especially by the 



PATRICK HENRY IO3 

troops. The two regiments which he had recently 
commanded presented to him the following address : 

" May it please your Excellency ; Permit us, with 
the sincerest sentiments of respect and joy, to con- 
gratulate your Excellency upon your unsolicited pro- 
motion to the highest honors a grateful people can 
bestow. Uninfluenced by private ambition, regard- 
less of sordid interest, you have uniformly pursued 
the general good of your country; and have taught 
the world that an ingenuous love of the rights of 
mankind, an inflexible resolution, and a steady per- 
severance in the practice of every public and private 
virtue, lead directly to preferment, and give the best 
title to the honors of our uncorrupted and vigorous 
state. 

*' Once happy under your military command, we 
hope for more extensive blessings from your civil 
administration. 

" Intrusted as your Excellency is, in some meas- 
ure, with the support of a young empire, our hearts 
are willing, and our arms ready, to maintain your 
authority as chief magistrate; happy that we have 
lived to see the day when freedom and equal rights, 
established by the voice of the people, shall prevail 
through the land. 

" We are, may it please your Excellency, your 
Excellency's most devoted and most obedient 
servants." 

To this address Henry returned the following 
answer : 

" Gentlemen of- the First and Second Virginia 
Regiments: Your address does me the highest 



I04 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

honor. Be pleased to accept my most cordial 
thanks for your favorable and kind sentiments of 
my principles and conduct. 

'' The high appointment to which my fellow-citi- 
zens have called me was, indeed, tmsolicited, un- 
merited. I am, therefore, under increased obliga- 
tions to promote the safety, dignity, and happiness 
of the Commonwealth. 

*' While the civil powers are employed in estab- 
lishing a system of government, liberal, equitable, in 
every part of which the genius of equal liberty 
breathes her blessed influence, to you is assigned the 
glorious task of saving, by your valor, all that is dear 
to mankind. Go on. Gentlemen, to finish the great 
work you have so nobly and successfully begun. 
Convince the tyrants again that they shall bleed, that 
America will bleed to her last drop, ere their wicked 
schemes find success. 

" The remembrance of my former connection with 
you shall be ever dear to me. I honor your pro- 
fession, I revere that patriot virtue, which, in your 
conduct, hath produced cheerful obedience, exem- 
plary courage, and contempt of hardship and danger. 
Be assured. Gentlemen, I shall feel the highest pleas- 
ure in embracing every opportunity to contribute to 
your happiness and welfare ; and I trust the day will 
come when I shall make one of those that will hail 
you among the triumphant deliverers of America. 

" I have the honor to be. Gentlemen, your most 
obedient and very humble servant, 

" P. Henry, Jun." 

The Governor's palace at Williamsburg, which 



PATRICK HENRY I05 

had been previously converted into an hospital, was 
now restored to its original use; and, on the 5th of 
July, the new Governor and Council took the oaths 
of office and entered on the discharge of their 
duties. 

Thus had Henry, in the short space of thirteen 
years, which had elapsed since he argued the Par- 
sons' Cause, on the ist of December, 1763, ascended 
from the position of an obscure advocate and a mere 
private citizen, through the responsible stations of 
member of the Assembly, member of Congress, and 
commander-in-chief of the Virginia forces, to the 
chief magistracy of the Commonwealth. He had 
risen solely by the effect of talent and character, 
without any aid from powerful connections, without 
the use of any courtly arts, without even the inde- 
fatigable and persevering industry which sometimes 
supplies the absence of almost every other advantage. 
Jealousy and envy had tried their worst upon him, 
not without some transient success, but had signally 
failed in the end, in all their efforts to obstruct his 
progress and injure his position. The bar-keeper of 
the little inn at Hanover had become the occupant 
of the Governor's palace at Williamsburg. The 
" obscure advocate " of the Parsons' Cause was now 
the greatest orator in the country, and one of the 
leading statesmen and magistrates in a new political 
system, created in no small degree by his own exer- 
tions. The indolent youth, who, at five and twenty, 
seemed to have lost every chance for success and dis- 
tinction, had assumed, before forty, an eminent posi- 
tion among those whom Bacon describes as the first 



I06 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

class of great men, the founders of nations. The 
most difficult and important objects of his earthly 
mission were accomplished. We are now to follow 
him through the highly honorable but comparatively 
easy routine of political and professional duty, where 
we shall find him exhibiting the same talents and vir- 
tues which had carried him, with so much brilliancy 
and success, through the stormy struggles of the 
Revolution. 



CHAPTER VI 

Administration as Governor. — Return to private Life.— Re- 
elected Governor. — Resigns. — Elected to the Assembly. 

The office of Governor of a State, however honor- 
able as a mark of public esteem, is one, in general, 
of mere routine, and affords but little opportunity 
for the display of superior talents, especially in the 
line in which Henry was particularly distinguished, 
that of forensic and parliamentary eloquence. His 
term of service in this capacity is accordingly the 
portion of his life which furnishes the most scanty 
supply of materials for the biographer. Soon after 
his entrance into office, Lord Dunmore evacuated 
the territory of the State. The military operations, 
which had been going on during the preceding year, 
were, in consequence, brought to a close, and were 
not renewed, to any considerable extent, while Henry 
was Governor. He had, therefore, no occasion for 
the exercise of the powers of commander-in-chief, 
which, as an appendage to the chief magistracy, had 
now been restored to him by the suffrages of the leg- 
islature. In his civil capacity, his administration is 
represented as having been efficient and successful, 
but undistinguished by any event of extraordinary 
importance. 

At the first session of the legislature after his elec- 
tion, an incident occurred of a singular, rather than 
107 



I08 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

very important, character, which seems to require 
some notice in an account of his Hfe, although, from 
the means of information now extant and accessible, 
it is difficult to form a very satisfactory idea of it. 

The Assembly met in the autumn of the year 1 776, 
perhaps the most gloomy period of the war. The 
occupation of New York by the British troops, and 
the losses sustained by Washington, in two or three 
actions in the neighborhood of that city, had, in a 
great measure, obliterated the recollection of the suc- 
cesses of the preceding year. The extreme difficulty 
of providing the resources necessary for keeping up 
even the appearance of opposition to the numerous 
well-disciplined and well-appointed armies of Eng- 
land began to be apparent. There was no assurance 
yet of any aid from abroad. Under these disastrous 
circumstances, a vague imagination seems to have 
crossed the minds of a portion of the members of the 
Virginia legislature, that something might be gained 
by a recourse to the expedient so often adopted by 
the Romans in cases of great emergency, the concen- 
tration of the whole civil and military power of the 
republic in the hands of a single person, with the title 
of dictator. 

The inutility, in reference to the general situation 
of the country, of constituting a State dictator, who 
would have had, as such, no right to exercise his un- 
bounded powers out of the narrow limits of his own 
dominion, or for any other than State objects, was 
sufficiently obvious, one would have thought, to sat- 
isfy the least judicious person that such a project, if 
not dangerous, was wholly destitute of plausibility. 



PATRICK HENRY IO9 

It is certain, however, that the plan was contem- 
plated, for it became the subject of warm and 
acrimonious discussion among the members of the 
Assembly. It is also known that Henry was the per- 
son whom the projectors of this scheme intended to 
create dictator. There is no proof that he had him- 
self any share in the plan, which was even distinctly 
disavowed at the time, and ever since, by himself and 
his friends. It appears, however, that he did not 
escape suspicion. While the project was in agita- 
tion. Colonel Archibald Gary, then speaker of the 
Assembly, a patriot of great consideration, but of a 
somewhat violent temper, met, in the lobby of the 
house. Colonel Syme, the brother-in-law of Henry, 
and addressed him as follows : " I am told that your 
brother wishes to be dictator ; tell him, from me, thai 
the day of his appointment shall be the day of his 
death ; for he shall feel my dagger in his heart before 
the sunset of that day." Colonel Syme replied, in 
great agitation, that, if such a project existed, his 
brother-in-law would certainly never lend himself to 
it, or to any other plan which would endanger the 
liberty of the country. 

Whatever apprehensions may have been enter- 
tained at the time by individuals, it is certain that 
no unfavorable impression was produced upon the 
general feeling of the Assembly, for, at the next an- 
nual election, on the 30th of May, 1777, Henry was 
unanimously reelected Governor, the members of 
the legislature being mostly the same as those of the 
preceding year, and Colonel Gary being again the 
presiding officer of the House. It does not appear 



no AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

from the account that the project was at this time 
formally proposed to the Assembly; but four years 
afterwards, at another period of general alarm, when 
the territory of Virginia had become again the thea- 
tre of actual hostilities, and when the session of the 
legislature had been interrupted by an inroad of Brit- 
ish troops, the project was again mooted, and not 
only made the subject of consideration in private, but 
actually proposed in the Assembly, and lost by only 
a very few votes. 

Mr. Jefferson, who was then Governor of the 
State, and had, of course, the strongest motives for 
informing himself, as far as possible, of the real 
character of this singular scheme, denounces it in 
strong terms in his " Notes on Virginia," but acquits 
the persons implicated in it, whom he does not name, 
of anything worse than an error of judgment. 
Henry was now, as before, the intended dictator; 
and, as the plan must have been within his knowl- 
edge, it seems hardly possible that it could have been 
entertained for years in succession, and finally pro- 
posed in the legislature, without his concurrence. 
Supposing that he suggested or favored it, there is, 
of course, no reason to suspect that he had any other 
object in view than the ostensible one of the public 
good. 

His favorite reading was the history of Rome; 
and the example of that illustrious commonwealth, 
as well as his own experience, had shown him the 
entire incapacity of deliberative assemblies for the 
conduct of military affairs. The real objection to 
the plan of a State dictator was not, in fact, the 



PATRICK HENRY III 

danger resulting from the existence of such an office 
to the pubhc Hberty, but its utter inefficiency for the 
defence of the Union. The expediency of some- 
thing of the kind, for State purposes, was felt in 
Virginia, in 1781 ; and, ahhough the plan of creat- 
ing a dictator was rejected, resolutions were passed 
conferring on the Governor and Council extraordi- 
nary powers, amounting to an unlimited control over 
the purse and sword of the State, and requesting 
Congress to intrust authority of a similar description 
to the commander-in-chief of the forces of the Union, 
which was, in fact, done. The concern, if any, which 
Henry may have had in the project of constituting 
a dictator need not, therefore, diminish our confi- 
dence in his patriotism, although it might, perhaps, 
impair in some degree our respect for his judgment. 
Even in this particular, as the tendency of his mind 
was always for the boldest and most energetic course 
of action, the plan would not have been very much at 
variance with the predominant traits of his character. 
During the second year of Henry's administration 
as Governor occurred the intrigue against the in- 
fluence of Washington, which has sometimes been 
called the Conzvay Cabal The origin, character, 
extent, and precise objects of this conspiracy are not 
very exactly known. It appears to have included a 
good many members of Congress and some distin- 
guished officers of the army. The success of General 
Gates, in the capture of the British troops under 
Burgoyne, seems to have given to Gates himself, and 
perhaps to others, the impression that he was supe- 
rior in efficiency as a commander to Washington. 



112 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

Those who held this opinion may have thought it 
poHtic and patriotic to endeavor to substitute Gates 
for Washington in the chief command. Other in- 
fluences, of a less honorable kind, no doubt, had their 
effect in determining the movement. The existence 
of the intrigue was made known to Washington 
through the indiscretion of General Conway, and the 
odium of the affair has finally rested upon him more 
directly than upon any other person, though it is 
difficult to view him in any other light than as an 
instrument of Gates. The intention seems to have 
been -to act through the medium of Congress, where 
the cabal had supporters ; to disgust Washington by 
repeated slights, until he should be induced to re- 
sign, and then to appoint Gates in his place. 

The appointment of Conway to the place of In- 
spector-General of the army, against the express 
advice of Washington, and after his hostility to the 
commander-in-chief was known, was the strongest 
demonstration made by the conspirators towards car- 
rying their views into effect. The discovery of the 
plot by Washington, and his cool and discreet, but 
at the same time firm, conduct on the occasion, ap- 
parently disconcerted the leaders, and checked their 
operations for the time; while the total failure of 
Gates, in his southern campaign, removed every hon- 
est and plausible pretext for a change. Conway's 
characteristic indiscretion afterwards involved him 
in a controversy with Congress, which led to his 
compulsory resignation, and in a duel which nearly 
cost him his life. While suffering from the effect of 
his wounds, and in expectation of immediate dissolu- 



PATRICK HENRY II3 

tion, he wrote a penitential letter to Washington, in 
which he avows, with expressions of deep regret, his 
share in the plot, and declares Washington to be, in 
his eyes, the " great and good man." This voluntary 
confession of the principal agent in the plot, while it 
does but little to atone for his guilt, is valuable as a 
complete bar to the suspicion, which might otherwise 
have arisen in some minds, that there was a real 
foundation for imputations of some sort upon the 
character or capacity of Washington. An attempt 
was made to implicate Henry in this cabal. An 
anonymous letter was sent to him on this subject, 
dated at Yorktown, January 12th, 1778. 

A passage in that letter, which is given as an ex- 
tract from a letter of General Conway to a friend, 
coincides exactly in substance, and very nearly in the 
language, with one in a letter from Conway to Gates, 
which accidentally became known to Washington, 
and first revealed to him the existence of the plot. 
It is worthy of remark that the substantial genuine- 
ness of the latter passage is here avowed by one of 
the conspirators, although the defence afterwards 
set up by Gates, when the affair was brought home 
to him by Washington, was, that the supposed ex- 
tract was not in the letter, and was a " wicked for- 
gery." The true state of the case might easily have 
been shown by producing the letter, which the con- 
spirators never ventured to do. The reality of the 
passage in question is admitted by the strongest im- 
plication in the first letters written by Conway and 
Gates to Washington on the subject, as was re- 
marked by Washington at the time, in his pointed 

A. B., VOL. III. — 8 



114 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

and manly reply to the latter. It is here directly 
avowed by one of the conspirators. The pretence of 
forgery was evidently an after-thought. This over- 
ture was treated by Henry in the way which might 
have been expected from his known character. He 
transmitted the communication to Washington, en- 
closed in the following letter : 

"Williamsburg, February 20th, 1778. Dear Sir: 
You will, no doubt, be surprised at seeing the en- 
closed letter, in which the encomiums bestowed on 
me are as undeserved as the censures aimed at you 
are unjust. I am sorry there should be one man 
who counts himself my friend, who is not yours. 

** Perhaps I give you needless trouble in handing 
you this paper. The writer of it may be too insig- 
nificant to deserve any notice. If I knew this to be 
the case, I should not have intruded on your time, 
which is so precious. But there may possibly be 
some scheme or party forming to your prejudice. 
The enclosed leads to such a suspicion. Believe me, 
Sir, I have too high a sense of the obligations Amer- 
ica has to you, to abet or countenance so unworthy a 
proceeding. The most exalted merit hath ever been 
found to attract envy. But I please myself with the 
hope that the same fortitude and greatness of mind 
which have hitherto braved all the difficulties and 
dangers inseparable from your station, will rise supe- 
rior to every attempt of the envious partisan. 

" I really cannot tell who is the writer of this 
letter, which not a little perplexes me. The hand- 
writing is altogether strange to me. 

" To give you the trouble of this gives me pain. 



PATRICK HENRY II5 

ft would suit my inclination better to give you some 
assistance in the great business of the war. But I 
^vill not conceal anything from you by which you 
may be affected ; for I really think your personal wel- 
fare and the happiness of America are intimately 
connected. I beg you will be assured of that high 
regard and esteem, with which I ever am, dear Sir, 
your affectionate friend and very humble servant/' 

On the 5th of March, Henry wrote a second letter 
to Washington on the same subject, as follows : 

** Dear Sir : By an express which Colonel Finnic 
sent to camp I enclosed to you an anonymous letter 
which I hope got safe to hand. I am anxious to hear 
something that will serve to explain the strange 
affair, which I am now informed is taken up respect- 
ing you. Mr. Custis has just paid us a visit, and by 
him I learn sundry particulars concerning General 
Mififlin that much surprised me. It is very hard to 
trace the schemes and windings of the enemies to 
America. I really thought that man its friend ; how- 
ever, I am too far from him to judge of his present 
temper. 

" While you face the armed enemies of our liberty 
in the field, and, by the favor of God, have been kept 
unhurt, I trust your country w^ill never harbor in her 
bosom the miscreant who w^ould ruin her best sup- 
porter. I wash not to flatter; but when arts, un- 
worthy honest men, are used to defame and traduce 
you, I think it not amiss, but a duty, to assure you 
of that estimation in which the public hold you. Not 
that I think any testimony I can bear is necessary for 
your support or private satisfaction ; for a bare recol- 



Il6 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

lection of what is past must give you sufficient pleas- 
ure in every circumstance of life. But I cannot help 
assuring you, on this occasion, of the high sense of 
gratitude which all ranks of men in this your native 
country bear to you. It will give me sincere pleasure 
to manifest my regard and render my best services 
to you or yours. I do not like to make a parade of 
these things, and I know you are not fond of it ; how- 
ever, 1 hope the occasion will plead my excuse. 

" Wishing you all possible felicity, I am, my 
dear Sir, your ever affectionate friend, and very 
humble servant." * 

In the Spring of 1778, Henry was unanimously 
reelected Governor. At the close of the year, al- 
though he had served three terms, and was conse- 
quently no longer eligible by the Constitution, it 
seems to have been the wish and intention of some 
of the members of the legislature to reelect him once 
more, on the ground, that, as he was chosen the first 
time by the Convention, and not by the legislature, 
the period during which he was constitutionally 
eligible did not commence till the second year of his 
administration. Henry, however, did not think 
proper to acquiesce in this construction of the Con- 
stitution, and declined a reelection in the following 
letter to the speaker of the Assembly : 

" May 28th, 1779. Sir : The term for which I 
had the honor to be elected Governor by the late As- 
sembly being just about to expire, and the Constitu- 

* Washington's answers, and all the letters on this subject, 
may be found in " Washington's Writings," Vol. V., pp. 483- 
S18. 



PATRICK HENRY II7 

tion, as I think, making me ineligible to that office, 
I take the liberty to communicate to the Assembly, 
through you. Sir, my intention to retire in four or 
five days. 

" I have thought it necessary to give this notifica- 
tion of my design, in order that the Assembly may 
have the earliest opportunity of deliberating upon 
the choice of a successor to me in office. 

" With great regard, I have the honor to be, Sir, 
your most obedient servant." 

In the Autumn of 1784, six years after the close 
of his former term of service, Henry, being now 
eligible by the Constitution, was again elected Gov- 
ernor, and, at the termination of his official year, 
was reelected to the same office. It was the wish 
and intention of the legislature that he should have 
completed another three years' term ; but, at the end 
of the second year, he declined reelection. 

The motive which induced him to decline was the 
embarrassed state of his private affairs. Although 
his manner of living was entirely free from ostenta- 
tion, he had found the salary allowed him as Gov- 
ernor insufficient to cover his expenses, and had been 
compelled to contract debts which he had no means 
of paying, but by the sale of a part of his estate, or by 
resuming the practice of his profession. He judi- 
ciously chose the latter course. During his employ- 
ment in the public service some changes had taken 
place in his private relations. His wife, after linger- 
ing through several years of ill-health and suffering, 
had died. Soon after this event, he had sold the es- 
tate on which he had been residing in Hanover 



Il8 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

county, and had purchased a tract of eight or ten 
thousand acres of land in the new county of Henry, 
which had been erected during his administration, 
and called by his name. 

In the year 1777, he espoused, in second nuptials, 
a daughter of Mr. A. W. Dandridge, and fixed his 
residence at his newly-acquired estate, called Leath- 
erwood. On resuming his attendance in the courts, 
he confined himself chiefly to the duties of counsellor 
and advocate, leaving it to his junior associates to 
attend to technical details. He was employed in all 
the cases of importance, as well in other parts of the 
State, as in his own immediate neighborhood. After 
the close of his first term of service as Governor, he 
was elected a member of the Assembly, and con- 
tinued till the close of his active life to take a prom- 
inent part in the proceedings of that body. In this 
field of action he distinguished himself by liberality 
of feeling and soundness of judgment, not less than 
by the superiority of his powers in debate. 

Immediately after the close of the Revolution, he 
proposed in the Assembly that the persons who had 
left the State, in consequence of their adherence to 
the policy of the mother country, should be permitted 
to return. This measure was violently resisted, but 
was finally adopted, chiefly under the impression pro- 
duced by his overwhelming eloquence. A report of 
his speech on this occasion has been preserved, and 
is remarkable for its correct views of the economical 
situation of the country, and its sagacious foresight 
of the future course of events, as well as for its noble 
sentiments and richness of language. Judge Tyler, 



PATRICK HENRY II9 

then speaker of the Assembly, opposed the measure 
with extreme violence in committee of the whole, 
and, appealing personally to Henry, as one of its 
principal supporters, expressed his wonder, that he, 
of all men, after standing forward as the great cham- 
pion of Independence, should now appear as the ad- 
vocate of the detested refugees. Henry replied as 
follows : 

" The personal feelings of a politician ought not 
to be permitted to enter these walls. The question 
is a national one, and, in deciding it, if we act wisely, 
nothing will be regarded but the interest of the na- 
tion. On the altar of my country's good I am walling 
to sacrifice all personal resentments, all private 
wrongs ; and I flatter myself that I am not the only 
man in the House who is capable of making such a 
sacrifice. We have, Sir, an extensive country, with- 
out population; what can be a more obvious policy 
than that this country ought to be peopled ? People, 
Sir, form the strength, and constitute the wealth, of 
a nation. I want to see our vast forests filled up by 
some process a little more speedy than the ordinary 
course of nature. I wish to see these States rapidly 
ascending to that rank which their natural advan- 
tages authorize them to hold among the nations of 
the earth. 

" Cast your eyes. Sir, over this extensive country ; 
observe the salubrity of your climate ; the variety and 
fertility of your soil ; and see that soil intersected in 
every quarter by bold, navigable streams, flowing to 
the east and to the west, as if the finger of Heaven 
were marking out the course of your settlements, in- 



I20 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

viting you to enterprise, and pointing the way to 
wealth. Sir, you are destined, at some time or other, 
to become a great agricultural and commercial peo- 
ple ; the only question is, whether you choose to reach 
this point by slow gradations, and at some distant 
period; lingering on through a long and sickly mi- 
nority; subjected, meanwhile, to the machinations, 
insults, and oppressions, of enemies, foreign and do- 
mestic, without sufficient strength to resist and chas- 
tise them; or whether you choose rather to rush at 
once, as it were, to the full enjoyment of those high 
destinies, and be able to cope, single-handed, with the 
proudest oppressor of the Old World. If you prefer 
the latter course, as I trust you do, encourage emi- 
gration ; encourage the husbandmen, the mechanics, 
the merchants, of the Old World, to come and settle 
in this land of promise; make it the home of the 
skilful, the industrious, the fortunate, and happy, as 
well as the asylum of the distressed ; fill up the meas- 
ure of your population as speedily as you can, by the 
means which Heaven hath placed in your power ; and 
I venture to prophesy there are those now living who 
will see this favored land amongst the most powerful 
on earth ; able, Sir, to take care of herself, without 
resorting to that policy which is always so dangerous, 
though sometimes unavoidable, of calling in foreign 
aid. Yes, Sir ; they will see her great in arts and in 
arms ; her golden harvests waving over fields of im- 
measurable extent; her commerce penetrating the 
most distant seas, and her cannon silencing the vain 
boasts of those who now proudly affect to rule the 
waves. 



PATRICK HENRY 12 1 

" But, Sir, you must have men; you cannot get 
along without them ; those heavy forests of valuable 
timber under which your lands are groaning must be 
cleared away ; those vast riches which cover the face 
of your soil, as well as those which lie hid in its 
bosom, are to be developed and gathered only by the 
skill and enterprise of men; your timber, Sir, must 
be worked up into ships, to transport the productions 
of the soil from which it has been cleared ; then you 
must have commercial men and commercial capital 
to take off your productions and find the best mar- 
kets for them abroad. Your great want, Sir, is the 
want of men, and these you must have, and will have 
speedily, if you are wise. 

'' Do you ask how you are to get them? Open 
your doors. Sir, and they will come in; the popula- 
tion of the Old World is full to overflowing; that 
population is ground, too, by the oppressions of the 
governments under which they live. Sir, they are 
already standing on tiptoe upon their native shores, 
and looking to your coasts with a wishful and long- 
ing eye ; they see here a land blessed with natural and 
political advantages which are not equalled by those 
of any other country upon earth ; a land on which a 
gracious Providence hath emptied the horn of abun- 
dance ; a land over which Peace hath now stretched 
forth her white wings, and where content and plenty 
lie down at every door ! Sir, they see something still 
more attractive than all this ; they see a land in which 
Liberty hath taken up her abode ; that Liberty, whom 
they had considered as a fabled goddess, existing 
only in the fancies of poets ; they see her here a real 



122 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

divinity, her altars rising on every hand throughout 
these happy States, her glories chanted by three mil- 
lions of tongues, and the whole region smiling under 
her blessed influence. Sir, let but this our celestial 
goddess. Liberty, stretch forth her fair hand toward 
the people of the Old World, tell them to come, and 
bid them welcome, and you will see them pouring in 
from the north, from the south, from the east, and 
from the west ; your wildernesses will be cleared and 
settled, your deserts will smile, your ranks will be 
filled, and you will soon be in a condition to defy the 
powers of any adversary. 

" But gentlemen object to any accession from 
Great Britain, and particularly to the return of the 
British refugees. Sir, I feel no objection to the re- 
turn of those deluded people ; they have, to be sure, 
mistaken their own interests most wofully, and most 
wofully have they suffered the punishment due to 
their offences. But the relations which we bear to 
them and to their native country are now changed; 
their king hath acknowledged our Independence ; the 
quarrel is over ; peace hath returned, and found us a 
free people. Let us have the magnanimity. Sir, to 
lay aside our antipathies and prejudices, and consider 
the subject in a political light. Those are an enter- 
prising, moneyed people; they will be serviceable in 
taking off the surplus produce of our lands, and sup- 
plying us with necessaries during the infant state of 
our manufactures. Even if they be inimical to us 
in point of feeling and principle, I can see no objec- 
tion, in a political view, to making them tributary to 
our advantage. And as I have no prejudices to pre- 



PATRICK HENRY 12 3 

vent my making this use of them, so, Sir, I have no 
fear of any mischief that they can do us. Afraid of 
them! What, Sir, shall we, who have laid the proud 
British liofi at our feet, now be afraid of his zvhelpsf 

The concluding phrase is not, perhaps, entitled, as 
a specimen of rhetoric, to all the praise that has been 
bestowed upon it; but it is impossible to speak too 
favorably of the substance of the speech. The liber- 
ality of our institutions, and especially the generous 
and truly wise policy which throws open our vacant 
territory, at a merely nominal price, to all who choose 
to occupy it, are working out the results predicted by 
Heni-y with a rapidity which even his ardent imagi- 
nation could hardly have anticipated. 

In the same liberal spirit, he supported and carried, 
against vigorous opposition, a proposal for removing 
the restraints on British commerce. It was appre- 
hended by some that a free admission of British ships 
would exclude the trade of all other nations, and de- 
prive us of the advantage of competition in reducing 
the price of our supplies from abroad. Henry re- 
pelled this objection with splendid eloquence; en- 
larged on the distress which the people had suffered 
by the interruption of foreign commerce; and con- 
cluded with proclaiming in emphatic language the 
doctrine of the liberty of trade, less familiar to the 
public ear at that time than it is now. " Why should 
we fetter commerce?" was his concluding remark; 
'' a man in chains droops and bows to the earth ; his 
spirits are broken ; but let him twist the fetters from 
his legs, and he will stand upright. Fetter not Com- 
merce, Sir ; let her be as free as air. She will range 



124 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

the whole creation, and return on the wings of the 
four winds of heaven to bless the land with plenty." 

During the session of 1784, Henry proposed in 
the Assembly a measure marked by the same origi- 
nality of thought and humanity of feeling, which 
dictated the others, but somewhat questionable, per- 
haps, on the score of practicability and expediency. 
The inconvenience which had been suffered, during 
the last and preceding wars, from the aggressions of 
the neighboring Indians appeared to render it a mat- 
ter of high importance to inspire them in some way 
with more amicable sentiments. Formal treaties of 
peace and alliance were known to be wholly inef- 
fectual. Henry proposed to effect the object by a law 
to encourage intermarriage between the two races, 
and brought in a bill holding out strong inducements 
to the formation of connections of this kind, such as 
a pecuniary bounty, to be repeated at the birth of 
every child, exemption from taxes, and the free use 
of an institution for education, to be established for 
the purpose at the expense of the State. 

The bill had its first and second reading, and was 
engrossed for its final passage, apparently under the 
influence of Henry's support; for no sooner was he 
withdrawn from the House, by his election as Gov- 
ernor for a second term, which took place at this 
time, than the bill, on coming up for a third reading, 
was rejected. Had the relative numbers and posi- 
tion of the two races been destined to remain as 
they were at this time, such a measure might have 
had a good effect, although the popular feeling, 
which has always been opposed to a mixture of races, 



PATRICK HENRY 12$ 

would have probably rendered it ineffectual. But the 
overwhelming and constantly increasing preponder- 
ance of the whites in power and numbers pretty soon 
settled the question in a different way, by compelling 
the red men to retire from the frontiers of Virginia 
and seek for new hunting grounds in the Far West. 

Among the measures supported, though not pro- 
posed, by Henry, was a resolution for the incorpora- 
tion of all Christian societies which might make ap- 
plication to that effect, and another imposing a gen- 
eral assessment for the support of pubHc worship, 
but leaving it to the discretion of the individual to 
appropriate the tax levied upon him to any church 
which he might prefer. The bills founded upon these 
resolutions were reported after Henry had ceased to 
be a member of the House; but the principles em- 
bodied in them had received his warm support in the 
introductory stage. The bill founded on the first of 
the two resolutions became a law ; the other was re- 
jected by a small majority on the third reading. 

On the 4th of December, 1786, soon after his final 
retirement from the chief magistracy of his State, 
Henry was elected by the legislature one of the dele- 
gates to the Convention for revising the Articles of 
Confederation among the States. His name stood 
upon the list, as recorded in the journal, next after 
that of Washington. The same imperious considera- 
tion which had compelled him to decline reelection 
as Governor, the urgent necessity of attending to his 
private affairs, also imposed it upon him as a duty to 
refrain from the acceptance of this high and honor- 
able commission, the full importance of which was 



126 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

not, however, so distinctly perceived at the time as 
it is now. After the national Convention, which met 
the following year at Philadelphia, had terminated 
their labors, and submitted the result to the people, 
a State Convention was called in Virginia, to take 
the proposed Constitution into consideration. Henry 
was elected by the county of Prince Edward, where 
he then resided, a member of this body, which met at 
Richmond on the 2d of June, 1788. 



CHAPTER VII 

Virginia Convention for considering the Plan of the Federal 
Constitution. — Henry opposes its Adoption. 

In following the progress of Henry through his 
long political career up to the point which we have 
now reached, we have more than once seen him act- 
ing upon his own views, in direct opposition to those 
of the most distinguished and patriotic of his fellow- 
laborers, in the common cause of Independence and 
Liberty. On all these occasions he had the satisfac- 
tion of finding his course sanctioned, after a short 
interval, by the almost unanimous approbation of his 
fellow-citizens ; and the public opinion of the country 
seems to have settled down in the conviction that the 
bold, vigorous, and, as it may have appeared to some 
at the time, violent policy, which he recommended 
and acted on, was the one best fitted to effect the 
common purpose. 

In regard to the course which he pursued in the 
Convention for considering the plan of the Federal 
Constitution, he did not enjoy the same good-fortune. 
He appeared in that Assembly as a determined oppo- 
nent of the adoption of the plan, and maintained his 
views throughout the whole discussion with his char- 
acteristic ardor, perseverance, and power of logic and 
eloquence. Taking the whole country through, he 
was by far the most distinguished and conspicuous 

127 



128 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

person who opposed the new system. The great 
prosperity which the country has enjoyed for a cen- 
tury in succession under this system, and which is 
justly attributed in no small degree to its beneficial 
influence, has long since stamped the Constitution 
with the seal of general favor. It is now a matter of 
surprise and regret to find that any one, and espe- 
cially one so renowned as Henry for talent, patriot- 
ism, and eloquence, should have failed to perceive 
what has since become so apparent to all, and should 
have labored with so much earnestness to prevent the 
adoption of a system that has proved, in practice, the 
salvation of the country. We are half tempted to 
doubt whether the opponents of the Constitution 
acted with correct intentions and purely patriotic 
feelings, in resisting a measure which appears to us, 
at the present day, so clearly and manifestly right, 
and to attribute their course to perversity and selfish- 
ness, rather than to the lofty and patriotic motives 
upon which it was at the time justified by themselves. 
We must recollect, however, in forming an opinion 
upon their conduct, that the Constitution presented 
itself to their minds under a very different aspect 
from that in which it now appears to us. It came 
before the State Conventions, no doubt, under cir- 
cumstances, in some respects, of the most auspicious 
character. It was offered as the result of the long 
and anxious deliberations of a most respectable as- 
sembly; it bore the signature of Washington. But 
there were other considerations connected with it of 
a different kind. It was known that the Convention 
had been greatly divided in opinion, and that the 



PATRICK HENRY 1 29 

most important provisions in the Constitution had 
been sanctioned by the smallest possible majorities, 
after the most intense and bitter opposition. The 
plan was untried, and patriotism imperiously re- 
quired that an untried system, involving a complete 
revolution in the government, should be examined 
with extreme jealousy. This appeared the more 
necessary, as the Convention, in framing a new gov- 
ernment, instead of merely amending the existing 
one, had in some degree exceeded its formal powers. 
The system presented, in its most conspicuous, if 
not most important, features, particularly that of a 
single executive magistrate, forms repugnant to the 
cherished and habitual feelings of the people. These 
feelings were, of course, not diminished, in the pres- 
ent instance, by the knowledge, that the prominent 
friends of the Constitution had urged with great 
earnestness in the Convention the adoption of the 
provisions in a much more obnoxious shape. If the 
tendency of the system, as it stood, was considered 
doubtful, the fact that its ablest supporters in the 
Convention declared the British Constitution, espe- 
cially in the executive branch, to be the model of a 
good government, might well justify the suspicion 
that the new project had, as Henry remarked, an 
'' awful squinting towards monarchy." It may even 
be doubted whether the views of the opponents of the 
plan were not, on some points, more correct than 
those of its supporters, and whether the immense 
amount of good, which has resulted from the adop- 
tion of the Constitution, may not have been the effect 
of its great leading principles, operating in spite, 

A. B., VOL. III. — q 



I30 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

rather than by the aid, of some provisions, which 
were considered at the time, both by friends and op- 
ponents, as more important than they really were, 
and which, so far as they have operated, have been 
of injurious rather than beneficial tendency. On the 
whole, it not only seems unnecessary to attribute the 
action of the opponents of the Constitution to per- 
versity or selfish views, but it may even be doubted 
whether the course pursued by them was not the one 
which would most naturally recommend itself to an 
ardent and uncompromising friend of popular princi- 
ples of government. 

The point upon which the debates in the General 
Convention chiefly turned was the question, whether 
the States should possess an equal vote in Congress, 
as had been the case under the old confederacy, or a 
number of votes proportional in each case to their 
comparative population. The Virginia plan, as it 
was called, which had been proposed by Governor 
Randolph, was supported with great power by Mr. 
Madison, who recommended the latter course. The 
former was the leading feature in the New Jersey 
plan, proposed by Mr. Paterson. After protracted 
and warm debate, the point was finally compromised 
by granting to the States an equal vote in the Senate, 
and a proportional one in the House of Representa- 
tives. This arrangement was not satisfactory at the 
time to the ardent supporters of either principle. 

Some of the most prominent champions of the 
New Jersey scheme actually quitted the Convention 
and returned home after it was agreed upon, under 
the impression that the rights of the States had been 



PATRICK HENRY I3I 

abandoned, that the compromise could never be 
sanctioned by them, and that there could be no ad- 
vantage in taking any further part in the proceed- 
ings. On the other hand, the most active friends of 
the Virginia model were equally dissatisfied, though 
for a directly opposite reason. Governor Randolph 
refused to affix his name to his own plan as amended, 
and Mr. Madison, its principal champion, although 
he consented to sign it, declared, and has recorded 
the opinion in his report of the debates, that he con- 
sidered it as completely vitiated by the introduction 
of the equal vote of the States in the Senate, which 
would, as he thought, inevitably perpetuate in the 
new system the essential vices of the old confederacy. 
But, though the prominent supporters of the Vir- 
ginia scheme in the Convention were wholly discon- 
tented with the result, they were generally consid- 
ered, by the people at large of all parties, as having 
substantially carried their point, and given to the 
General Government a great increase of strength, as 
compared with that which it possessed under the 
confederacy. The experience of now a century has 
confirmed the correctness of this view of the subject. 
The equal vote of the States in the Senate has not 
thus far proved to be of any practical importance for 
the purpose which led to its introduction. All the 
struggles that have taken place in Congress, includ- 
ing even those in which the respective pretensions of 
the States and the General Government were directly 
at issue, have been decided by comparison of the 
strength of great parties pervading the whole Union, 
as represented in both branches of Congress, and not 



132 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

by the votes of the States, as represented on a foot- 
ing of equaHty in the Senate ; while the whole history 
of the country, before and since the adoption of the 
Constitution, proves beyond a shadow of doubt that 
the power of the General Government, under the 
present system, is much greater than it was under 
the confederacy. The difference is, in fact, nearly 
equivalent to that between a government sufficiently 
powerful for every desirable purpose and no govern- 
ment at all. 

In accordance with tne impression which prevailed 
at the time, and has thus been confirmed by experi- 
ence, respecting the substantial character of the plan 
proposed by the Convention, it received, in general, 
when submitted to the people, the support of those 
who favored the Virginia system, and the idea of 
strengthening the General Government. Even the 
prominent champions of the Virginia scheme in the 
Convention who had strongly expressed their dis- 
satisfaction with it as amended by that body, seem, 
on full consideration, to have taken a more favorable 
view of the result. Governor Randolph, who had 
refused to sign the plan as adopted, and Mr. Madi- 
son, who declared that he considered the original 
Virginia scheme as entirely vitiated by the amend- 
ments, were the two most active and prominent sup- 
porters of the Constitution in the Virginia Conven- 
tion. Even Hamilton, who had said, in the Federal 
Convention that he thought both the plans proposed 
entirely worthless from their inefficiency, and re- 
garded the British Constitution as the model of a 
good government, appeared in the New York State 



PATRICK HENRY 



133 



Convention as the leading champion of the plan, and 
labored, through the press, with his characteristic 
talent and energy, in concurrence with Madison and 
Jay, in recommending it to the people. On the other 
hand, the opposition to the plan in the State Conven- 
tions was generally led by the members of the Gen- 
eral Convention, who had sustained in that body the 
pretensions of the States, and looked with apprehen- 
sion on any decided augmentation of the power of 
the Union. 

Patrick Henry, as was stated in the last chapter, 
had been appointed a delegate from Virginia to the 
General Convention, but, from prudential motives, 
had declined to accept the trust. He was, therefore, 
not personally committed to either of the parties 
which had been formed in that body ; but there were 
several circumstances in his character and position 
which naturally led him to sympathize in opinion and 
feeling with the partisans of the States. His native 
Commonwealth was, at that time, by far the most im- 
portant member of the Union. Any increase of the 
power of the General Government, as compared with 
that of the States, operated, of course, more directly 
upon Virginia than upon any of her sisters. While 
several of the prominent Virginia statesmen, such as 
Washington, Madison, Randolph, Marshall, and 
others, overcame, by considerations of a more general 
character, the force of this local feeling, it was not 
unnatural that others, and especially those whose 
political career had identified their personal impor- 
tance very closely with that of their own State, 
should look at the whole question chiefly in reference 



134 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

to the manner in which it affected State interests, 
and, finding its operation in this respect unfavora- 
ble to Virginia, should, for this reason only, decide 
against it 

This was preeminently the case with Henry. He 
had been, through the most active period of his life, 
the most prominent citizen in the Old Dominion, had 
occupied her highest places of trust and honor, both 
civil and military, and had imparted to them, by his 
splendid eloquence, a consideration which, as mere 
official employments, they would not otherwise have 
had. On the other hand, he had taken little or no 
part in the administration of the General Govern- 
ment ; had not particularly distinguished himself as a 
member of Congress, and had no reason to consider 
his personal importance or reputation as immediately 
involved in the turn that might be taken by the 
affairs of the Union. 

It may be added that, while he was thus naturally 
led by his personal associations and previous career, 
to favor the importance of the States, rather than 
that of the General Government, he was also strongly 
disposed, by his peculiar views, to look with disap- 
probation upon any attempt to enlarge, in any way, 
the attributes of government, whether State or Gen- 
eral, at the expense of the rights of the people. He 
had professed and acted on through life, very often 
under dif^cult circumstances, and with painful sacri- 
fices of personal comfort, the most decidedly repub- 
lican principles of government, had constituted him- 
self, in his own State, a sort of tribune of the people 
and protector of their rights against the influence of 



PATRICK HENRY 1 35 

a wealthy aristocracy, and was prooably the most 
determined repubUcan, as well as the most zealous 
State-rights man in the country. There was, there- 
fore, in his case, a remarkable concurrence of all the 
circumstances that could well be expected to operate 
in producing in the mind of any individual a disposi- 
tion, independently of the actual merits of the case, 
to oppose the new plan. Those who reflect upon the 
immense influence of accidental circumstances on the 
will and judgment, who recollect how large a por- 
tion of their own opinions on the most important 
subjects have been mainly determined by causes sub- 
stantially of this character, will not be surprised, 
however strong their conviction may be of the essen- 
tial excellence of the Federal Constitution, that a 
patriot so pure, intelligent, and sagacious as Henry, 
should have been found at the time of its adoption 
among its most active opponents. 

It is, therefore, unnecessary to suppose, as some 
have done, that Henry, and the other prominent op- 
ponents of the Constitution, were actuated by per- 
sonal or selfish motives. We may even go farther 
and admit that there was not only great plausibility, 
but much actual truth, in some of their views. How- 
ever beneficial may have been the operation of the 
Federal Constitution as a whole, it is not to be dis- 
guised, that, under some of its aspects, its tendency 
is different. This remark is made with particular 
allusion to the provision for the chief executive mag- 
istracy, which may, perhaps, be considered, with pro- 
priety, as the weak point in the Constitution. 

Our governments, both State and National, 



136 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

viewed under one of these aspects, belong to the class 
of elective monarchies; and, although the shortness 
of the term for which our rulers are elected, and the 
limited extent of the powers intrusted to them, abate 
very much the agitation naturally incident to this 
form of polity, experience has already shown that 
the difficulty is by no means entirely overcome. By 
throwing into the lottery of political life the glitter- 
ing prize of the presidency, we have greatly aug- 
mented the intensity and eagerness of the struggle 
for official distinction. If the constitution of the 
executive department in this particular form were 
indispensable to the successful action of the govern- 
ment, or attended with advantages sufficient to 
counterbalance the evils resulting from it, we should, 
of course, accept the latter with cheerfulness, as the 
natural price which we must pay for the former ; but 
this does not seem to be the case. The importance 
attached, in public opinion, to the office of president, 
is wholly disproportionate to the nature of the politi- 
cal functions connected with it, which are chiefly 
matters of mere routine. 

The constant agitation, which is kept up through- 
out the country by the struggle for this office, and 
the great increase of intensity which it gives to party 
divisions, are, therefore, a clear injury, without any 
corresponding benefit. If the inconveniences, which 
we have thus far experienced, be the worst that are 
likely to result from the existing system, we might 
endure them with the less reluctance, since, consid- 
erable as they in fact are, they are yet trifling when 
compared with the terrible oppressions incident to 



PATRICK HENRY 1 37 

the differently constituted governments of the Old 
World. But there is no small ground for apprehen- 
sion that, as the country advances in wealth and 
population, the inconveniences alluded to may as- 
sume a more malignant character than they have 
hitherto worn. If our institutions are destined, as 
many suppose, to a premature and violent termina- 
tion, it can hardly be doubted that the struggle for 
the presidency will be the immediate occasion of the 
convulsions by which it will be brought about. With- 
out giving way to gloomy forebodings of contingent, 
perhaps on the whole improbable, results, and assum- 
ing that the good sense of the people will be com- 
petent to correct, by amendment of the Constitution, 
any error that may become apparent, it is yet certain 
that if the unfortunate result alluded to should hap- 
pen, we shall have sacrificed the solidity and perma- 
nence of our government for a bawble of no essential 
value. 

It is somewhat remarkable tnat the mconveniences 
and dangers incident to the nature of elective mon- 
archies, even in their most qualified and limited form, 
do not seem to have occurred to the minds of the 
members of the Federal Convention, while deliberat- 
ing upon this part of the Constitution. Their atten- 
tion was so entirely absorbed by the question of the 
relative influence of the States in Congress, that they 
felt comparatively little interest in the executive de- 
partment, and continued almost mechanically the 
form in use under the colonial system, without 
reflecting that the administration of a subject 
province under the orders of a metropolitan govern- 



138 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

ment, and the chief magistracy of an independent 
State, are functions of an entirely different character, 
and should be provided for on directly opposite prin- 
ciples. The sagacious mind of Henry, predisposed 
as it was, for the reasons above specified, to take an 
unfavorable view of the plan of the Convention, 
seized at once upon the weak point in the Constitu- 
tion as the principal object of attack. 

The overwhelming power of the president, and its 
fatal influence upon the independence of the States 
and the liberty of the people, are the leading topics 
of his numerous and frequently powerful speeches in 
the Virginia Convention. There is, doubtless, some, 
perhaps we may say much, exaggeration in these 
views; but the experience of a century has tended, 
on the whole, to confirm rather than refute them. 
Of the parties that have subsequently been formed in 
the country, those which represent most directly the 
friends of the Constitution at the period of the adop- 
tion, have not been, by any means, the least con- 
spicuous in denouncing as a great evil the undue im- 
portance that is attributed, in our system, to the chief 
executive magistracy. It remains to be seen whether 
the evil can be cured by the quiet process of amend- 
ment, or whether, if it be too deeply implanted in 
this system to admit of that remedy, it will be kept 
hereafter, as it has hitherto been, in practical subor- 
dination by the sounder and better parts of the sys- 
tem, or will finally assume new degrees of malignity, 
and exercise upon the whole form of the government 
the fatal and destructive influence which the patriotic 
fears of Henry had led him to anticipate. 



PATRICK HENRY 1 39 

It will not be necessary here to analyze accurately 
all the speeches made by Henry in the Virginia Con- 
vention. They are very numerous, and occupy no 
inconsiderable portion of the volume of debates. It 
may be proper, however, to cast a rapid glance over 
the course of the proceedings, and to indicate briefly 
the part taken_byJiinTMqn the diffe^^^^ that 

successively came under discussion. 

The Convention met at Richmond, on the 2d of 
June, 1788. From the great importance of the State 
of Virginia in the Union, and the care with which 
the members of the Convention had been selected, it 
was an assembly hardly less imposing than the Fed- 
eral Convention itself. Eight States had already 
ratified the Constitution. Five were yet to pass upon 
it. By the terms of the instrument, the consent of 
one more would make it binding on the ratifying 
States. It may well be doubted, however, whether, 
without the ratification of Virginia, it could have 
gone into successful operation. Independently of 
other considerations, Virginia was the residence of 
Washington; and there can be no question that the 
anticipation of his election as the first President was 
an essential and indispensable requisite to the prac- 
tical adoption of the Constitution. The proceedings 
of the Virginia Convention were therefore watched 
with intense interest throughout the country, and the 
results of its deliberations looked for with extreme 
anxiety, both by the friends and enemies of the new 
system, as decisive on the main question by its ulti- 
mate adoption or rejection. 

The Convention was organized by the election of 



I40 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

Mr. Pendleton as chairman. On the 4th of June, 
the debate commenced ; as a preHminary step, a reso- 
lution had been passed that no questions should be 
taken upon any particular clause in the Constitution 
before the whole instrument had undergone a full 
discussion. From the 4th to the 13th of June, the 
debate was carried on upon the instrument at large. 
On the 15th, the consideration of the separate clauses 
began, and it was continued until the 24th. On the 
25th, the general discussion was renewed; and, on 
the 26th, it was closed by the adoption of the Con- 
stitution. In the debate of the 25th, Henry had pro- 
posed a bill of rights and a series of amendments, the 
adoption of which by the other States was to be 
made a condition of the ratification of the Constitu- 
tion by Virginia. The proposition, as made by him, 
was rejected, and the Constitution adopted without 
condition; but, immediately after the vote for the 
ratification, a committee was raised to report a bill 
of rights and a series of amendments, to be submitted 
to the other States in the form prescribed by the 
Constitution. On the 27th, the committee reported 
the bill of rights and amendments proposed by 
Henry, and their report was accepted. This pro- 
ceeding was the last act of the Convention. 

The debates in this assembly were more fully and 
ably reported than those of any of the other State 
Conventions, and fill an octavo volume of nearly five 
hundred closely-printed pages, a volume second only 
in value for the student of constitutional law to the 
inestimable report of the debates in the Federal Con- 
vention by Madison. The discussions of the first 



PATRICK HENRY 14I 

thirteen days are particularly interesting. They 
were managed chiefly by Nicholas, Pendleton, Ran- 
dolph, Marshall, and Madison, in favor of the adop- 
tion, and by Henry, George Mason, Monroe, and 
Grayson, against it. All these persons were men of 
the highest order of talent, but the real champions 
and leaders of the two parties were Henry and Madi- 
son. No two men could be more unlike in their in- 
tellectual constitution, and each possessed qualities 
in which he was decidedly superior to the other. 
Henry excelled his opponent, perhaps, in original 
power of mind, certainly in brilliancy of imagination 
and splendor of natural eloquence. He had also the 
advantage that belongs to greater experience; the 
habit of success, and a name endeared to the people 
by association with a long career of public service 
and the highest political and military employments. 
In calm good sense, instinctive sagacity, extent of 
information, and clearness of reasoning, he was sur- 
passed by his comparatively youthful rival. 

The qualities in which Henry excelled are un- 
doubtedly those that are most likely to produce effect 
on a popular assembly. It is, therefore, highly cred- 
itable to the general intelligence of the Virginia Con- 
vention that they manfully withstood his overwhelm- 
ing eloquence, backed as it was by the almost irre- 
sistible charm attached to his name and character, 
and yielded their assent to the cool and clear logic of 
Madison. In accounting for this result, we must 
doubtless take into view the array of able coadjutors 
by whom Madison was supported in the Convention, 
including even Marshall, who, though he said but 



142 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

little, whenever he did speak always spoke to the 
point with unrivalled power ; the example of the other 
States, where the Constitution had already been 
adopted ; and, above all, the general reverence for the 
character of Washington, who stood behind the cur- 
tain as a sort of guardian genius of the precious in- 
strument that bore his signature, unseen, unheard, 
but exercising a moral power that was deeply felt by 
every one. But, after making all the necessary al- 
lowance for these circumstances, it cannot well be 
questioned that the influence of Madison, through 
his talents, character, and persevering exertions, was 
the immediate cause, in the Virginia Convention, as 
it had been before in the general one, of the adoption 
of the Constitution. To him belongs the transcen- 
dent honor of having first supported, and subsequent- 
ly sustained and carried through, by means of his 
own personal influence, at every subsequent stage of 
its progress, this great charter of our country's pros- 
perity and freedom. We may search in vain the long 
rolls of history for a higher title to civil and political 
distinction. 

A more particular, though, of course, very cursory, 
survey of the progress of the debate will show more 
distinctly how large and important was the part 
taken in it by the subject of our narrative. After the 
preliminary proceedings had been terminated, the 
debate was opened by Henry, who moved for '' the 
reading of the Act of Assembly appointing deputies 
to meet at i\nnapolis, to consult with those of other 
States on the situation of the commerce of the United 
States, the Act of Assembly appointing deputies to 



PATRICK HENRY 1 43 

meet at Philadelphia to revise the Articles of Con- 
federation, and other public papers relative thereto." 
The purpose of Henry, in making this motion, was, 
of course, to introduce the formidable, and certainly 
not entirely ill-founded objection, that the Federal 
Convention, in forming a new system, instead of 
merely revising the old one, had exceeded its powers. 
The idea was, however, not insisted on, and, after a 
few remarks by Mr. Pendleton in opposition to it, 
the motion of Henry was withdrawn. The facility 
with w^hich this preliminary objection, perhaps the 
strongest of a positive kind that could be brought 
against the Constitution, was yielded by its most de- 
termined and vigorous antagonist, shows already 
that the moral forces which were operating indirectly 
in favor of it had sapped the strength of opposition 
even before the debate commenced, and afforded a 
pregnant indication of the probable issue. 

This difficulty having been overcome, the discus- 
sion commenced with a speech from Mr. Nicholas, 
in which he recapitulated, in a forcible manner, and 
somewhat at large, the principal arguments in favor 
of the adoption of the plan. He was followed by 
Henry in a short speech, in which, describing the 
proposition of the new plan to be, as it really was, a 
proposition to effect a revolution in the General Gov- 
ernment, he calls upon its friends to show cause for 
so extraordinary a proceeding. The country is, to 
all outward appearance, tranquil and prosperous. 
In such a state of things, what reasonable motive 
can be alleged for proceeding to this desperate ex- 
tremity, which, by general acknowledgment, can 



144 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

only be justified by the existence of mis-government 
and oppression in their worst and most intolerable 
form? In the tenor of this inquiry we find a sec- 
ond evidence of the care with which Henry had 
surveyed the whole ground, and the skill with which 
he had selected the positions that he intended suc- 
cessively to occupy. The General Convention had 
exceeded its powers. This is the first objection, and 
is in the nature of a plea to the jurisdiction of the 
court at law. This being waived, a second objec- 
tion, still preliminary, but of a more substantial char- 
acter, presents itself. The country is tranquil and 
prosperous ; the people are happ}^ Under such cir- 
cumstances, it seems like political insanity to propose 
an entire revolution in the government. 

The friends of the Constitution did not meet these 
objections' with any very precise or elaborate reply. 
They probably deemed it a more politic plan of cam- 
paign to reserve their main strength till the positive 
objections had been stated, rather than to assume the 
burden of proof, and undertake to show by argument 
the necessity of a change. Governor Randolph 
made a short and not very powerful answer to the 
speech of Henry. He was followed by George Ma- 
son, in a speech against the plan, after which Mr. 
Madison made a few remarks, which closed the pro- 
ceedings of the first day of the debates. On the day 
following, the discussion was continued by Messrs. 
Pendleton and Lee, in reply to Henry; but it was 
now apparent that it was not the intention of the 
friends of the plan to meet the question upon this 
ground. Perceiving this, Henry proceeded to un- 



PATRICK HENRY I45 

mask his main battery, and occupied the remainder 
of the second day by a long and powerful speech, 
in which he presented in detail the positive objec- 
tions. It is, of course, impossible to state them fully 
in this connection, and the general outline of the 
argument is familiar to most readers of political his- 
tory. The leading topics of the speech, as of all 
those which were made by Henry during the dis- 
cussion, were the danger of consolidation, and the 
overwhelming power of the executive. 

The speech is badly reported, and in two or three 
of the most important parts is avowedly imperfect. 
It probably gives a very inadequate representation of 
the language of the orator, to say nothing of his 
looks, tones, and gestures, everything, in short, that 
is embraced under the significant and comprehensive 
term action. It contains, however, even in the shape 
in which we have it, many brilliant and powerful 
passages, one of them containing the celebrated and 
often quoted phrase, in which the speaker denounces 
the plan as deformed by " an awful squinting to- 
wards monarchy." It is easy to conceive, that, as 
delivered by the orator himself, it must have pro- 
duced a prodigious effect upon the assembly. 

The system of attack contemplated by the oppo- 
nents of the plan was now fully developed. They 
had been compelled by the prudent management of 
its friends to assume the offensive, and leave to the 
latter the comparatively easy task of answering posi- 
tive objections. It was now necessary to take the 
field in reply, in full force, under the direction of the 
ablest champions. The two following days, the 6th 

A. B., VOL. III. — 10 



146 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

and 7th of June, were accordingly occupied by long 
and elaborate speeches from Randolph, Nicholas, 
Corbin, and Madison, in which they successively 
surveyed the whole ground taken by Henry, and pre- 
sented, under every variety of form and color, the 
most plausible answers that could be made to his 
objections. At the close of the debate of the 7th, 
Henry commenced, and continued through the 
greater part of that of the 8th another long and 
powerful speech in rejoinder; and was again an- 
swered at great length on the same and the next 
following day, by Governor Randolph. After this 
the discussion was kept up with undaunted spirit, 
though in a somewhat less regular form, by the 
principal speakers on both sides, until the 15th, when 
it was at length brought to a close. The discussion 
of the separate articles which occupied the interval 
between this date and the 23d, was necessarily of a 
more desultory character, and would not admit of a 
precise analysis. The debates on the judiciary, 
which occupied the 20th and 21st, were particularly 
interesting. 

On the 24th, the general discussion was renewed, 
and Henry now made his final effort, founding his 
proposition of a ratification on the condition of the 
acceptance by the other States of a bill of rights and 
a series of amendments. At the close of this speech, 
a scene occurred which affords a good example of 
the manner in which the poetical element has blended 
itself with the simple truth in the accounts handed 
down to us of Henry's speeches and life. In the 
closing passages of his speech, while descanting on 



PATRICK HENRY I47 

the immense importance of the question at issue, 
Henry appealed to the beings of a superior order! 
who might be supposed to survey from their celestial 
abodes with deep interest the progress of a struggle 
involving the future fortunes of half mankind. " To 
those beings/' says Mr. Wirt, on the authority of 
Judge Archibald Stuart, who was a member of the 
Convention and present at the debate, " to those be- 
ings he had addressed an invocation with a most 
thrilling look and action that made every nerve 
shudder with supernatural horror, when, lo ! a storm 
at that instant arose, which shook the whole build- 
ing and the spirits whom he had called seemed to 
have come at his bidding. Nor did his eloquence 
or the storm immediately cease. Availing himself 
of the incident with a master's art, he seemed to mix 
in the fight of his ethereal auxiliaries, and, ' rising 
on the wings of the tempest, to seize upon the artil- 
lery of heaven and direct its fiercest thunders against 
the heads of his adversaries.' The scene became in- 
supportable, and the House rose without the for- 
mahty of adjournment, the members rushing from 
their seats with precipitation and confusion." 

The reporter presents the passage in the speech of 
Henry here alluded to in the following form : 

" The honorable gentleman tells you of important 
blessings, which he imagines will result to us and to 
mankind in general from the adoption of this sys- 
tem. As for me, I can only see the awful immensity 
of the dangers with which it is pregnant. I see it. 
I feel it. I see beings of a higher order anxious 
concerning our decision. I extend my view beyond 



148 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

the horizon that Hmits human vision and behold 
those superior intelhgences anticipating the poHtical 
revolutions which in process of time may take place 
in America, and the consequent happiness or misery 
of mankind. I am led to believe that much of the 
account on one side or the other will depend on 
what we now decide. Our own happiness alone is 
not affected by the event. All nations are interested 
in the determination. We have it in our own power 
to secure the happiness of one half of the human 
race. Its adoption may involve the misery of the 
other hemisphere." 

'* Here," says the reporter, in a parenthesis, a 
violent storm arose, which put the House in such 
disorder that Mr. Henry was obliged to conclude." 

Mr. Wirt remarks, in a note, that, " by comparing 
the statement of Judge Stuart with this passage in 
the printed debates, the reader may decide how far 
these may be relied on as specimens of Mr. Henry's 
eloquence." The passage as reported certainly car- 
ries internal evidence of being a very feeble and in- 
adequate transcript of the orator's language ; but we 
suspect that the reporter's parenthesis will be 
thought by most readers a much more natural and 
plausible account of the reasons and manner of 
adjournment than the glowing statement of the 
learned judge. 

The general discussion was continued on the 25th, 
and two or three new speakers took, for the first 
time, a prominent part in the debate ; Colonel Innis, 
then attorney-general of the State, who seems to 
have been a very remarkable orator, and whose elo- 



PATRICK HENRY I49 

quence is characterized by Mr. Wirt, in his usual 
florid style, as a " splendid conflagration," Judge 
Tyler, and Zachariah Johnson. Randolph, Henry, 
Madison, Monroe, and Grayson, mingled as usual 
in the discussion. At the close of this day's debate, 
the question was taken, and on the two following 
days the proceedings of the Convention were 
brought, in the manner that has been already men- 
tioned, to a close. 

Although the views of Henry were not adopted 
by the Convention, he seems to have suffered no 
diminution of his personal influence in consequence' 
of the part which he took on this occasion. At the 
session of the Assembly, which was held on the fol- 
lowing October, he succeeded in preventing the elec- 
tion of Mr. Madison to the Senate of the United 
States, and in carrying that of Richard Henry Lee 
and Mr. Grayson, the latter of whom had been in the 
Convention an active opponent of the Constitution. 
At the same session, he moved a resolution request- 
ing Congress to call another General Convention, for 
the purpose of amending the instrument as adopted. 
A motion was made to amend this resolution by sub- 
stituting another, inviting Congress to propose to 
the States, in the constitutional way, the bill of rights 
and series of amendments proposed by Henry, and 
adopted at the Richmond Convention. This motion 
was rejected, and the original proposal of Henry 
was adopted by a triumphant majority of more than 
two to one. 

Thus terminated the action of Henry upon the 
great reform effected in the government by the adop- 



150 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

tion of the Federal Constitution. While we render 
the fullest justice to the correctness of his intentions, 
and to the superiority of talent and eloquence with 
which he supported his views in the Convention, we 
may pronounce it without hesitation a most for- 
tunate thing for the country that they did not pre- 
vail. Still more fortunate will it be if the dangers 
which he apprehended shall prove, in the sequel, to 
have been imaginary, and not to have been ad- 
journed for a time, only to burst upon us with 
greater fury in proportion to the immense augmen- 
tation which will have taken place in the interval in 
the extent and population of the country. The 
enemies of liberal constitutions abroad generally look 
forward to the early occurrence among us of some 
such catastrophe, and are sustained in their gloomy 
forebodings by the opinions of many of our most 
judicious and best informed citizens. Yet when we 
find the superior liberality of our institutions, accom- 
panied, as it thus far has been, by a corresponding 
superiority in the intelligence, morality, and general 
well-being of the people, we may venture, perhaps, 
to regard such apprehensions as groundless, and to 
consider the establishment of our republican empire 
as the opening of a new and more auspicious chap- 
ter in the historv of man. 



CHAPTER VIII 

Retirement of Henry from political and professional Life. — 
Domestic Occupations. — Death and Character. 

The proceedings detailed in the preceding chapter 
were the last of a political character in which Henry 
was engaged. It is understood that, on the retire- 
ment of Mr. Jefferson from the office of Secretary of 
State, Henry was requested to take charge of that 
department of the government; and it is rumored, 
that, at a later period, during the administration of 
John Adams, he was offered successively the ap- 
pointments of Minister to France and to Spain. At 
the close of the year 1796, he was elected by the 
legislature Governor of the Commonwealth, but de- 
clined the office. 

He seems to have taken no very decided part in 
the political controversies that grew up after the 
adoption of the Federal Constitution, but favored 
alternately the views of one or the other party, ac- 
cording to his own private opinion of the merits of 
the particular question upon which they were for the 
time divided. He disapproved Mr. Jay's treaty with 
Great Britain; but, after it had been ratified by the 
Senate and become constitutionally the law of the 
land, he deemed it the duty of every citizen to con- 
cur in carrying it into effect in his appropriate sphere 
of action, whether political or personal, and con- 

151 



152 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

demned the course of those members of the House 
of Representatives of the United States who endeav- 
ored to prevent the appropriation necessary for this 
purpose. He also pubHcly expressed his approba- 
tion of the AHen and Sedition Laws, and his disap- 
probation of the celebrated Kentucky and Virginia 
resolutions. So strong was his apprehension of 
danger to the public tranquillity from the policy 
which dictated these resolutions that it induced him 
to break the determination, which he had previously 
formed, to take no further part in the public affairs ; 
and, in the Spring of the year 1799, he presented 
himself to the electors of Charlotte county in which 
he resided as a candidate for the State Assembly. 

Although his avowed object, in seeking an elec- 
tion, was to oppose the views of a party which pre- 
dominated throughout the State, his personal influ- 
ence was so great that he was elected by his usual 
commanding majority. After his election was 
known, it was deemed by the republican leaders a 
matter of so much importance that great exertions 
were made to bring into the Assembly their most 
distinguished advocates, for the purpose of neutraliz- 
ing his influence. Giles, Taylor of Caroline, 
Nicholas, and a number of younger men, conspicuous 
for talent and eloquence, were deputed to the As- 
sembly. Madison himself retired from Congress, 
and accepted a place in the Virginia legislature for 
the purpose of encountering the great champion on 
his own ground. Had Henry taken his seat, it 
would have been a singular spectacle to see these 
distinguished men leading on, as before, their re- 



PATRICK HENRY I53 

spective parties, but eadi, so far as party connec- 
tions were concerned, occupying a position directly^ 
opposite to that which he had held in the State Con- 
vention. The repubhcan party had a large majority 
in the Assembly, and it is altogether probable that 
Henry would have found it as difficult to stem the 
torrent of public opinion on this occasion as he had 
on the preceding one; but the point was never 
brought to a practical issue. A disease, under which 
he had been suffering for two years, came to a crisis 
about the time of his election to the Assembly, and 
terminated fatally on the 6th of June, 1799. 

At the new session of the Assembly, a member 
of the Federal party moved the following resolution : 

" The General Assembly of Virginia, as a tes- 
timonial of their veneration for the character of 
their late illustrious fellow-citizen, Patrick Henry, 
whose unrivalled eloquence and superior talents were 
in times of peculiar peril and distress so uniformly, 
so powerfully and successfully, devoted to the cause 
of freedom and of his country; and, in order to in- 
cite the present and future generations to an imita- 
tion of his virtues, and an emulation of his fame ; 

" Resolve, That the Executive be authorized and 
requested to procure a marble bust of the said Pat- 
rick Henry, at the public expense, and to cause the 
same to be placed in one of the niches of the hall of 
the House of Delegates." 

The reception, which this motion met with in the 
Assembly affords a striking proof how completely, 
at periods of high party excitement, a difference of 
opinion on the current questions of the day is per- 



154 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

mitted to outweigh every consideration of a more 
general character. The mover of the resolution, as 
well as the illustrious subject of it, was regarded by 
the majority, not merely as an opponent, but as an 
apostate; and, although every member would have 
doubtless concurred in the view taken of Henry's 
general character, and in the propriety of the measure 
recommended, the action on the resolutions was de- 
termined by a strictly party vote. A member of the 
majority moved to lay it on the table. The member 
who offered it replied with warmth that, if it were 
so disposed of, he would never call it up again. 
The motion to lay on the table prevailed, and the 
resolution was, in consequence, never acted on. 

The charge of apostasy is habitually made in this 
and other countries, against all who take a course, 
in political or religious affairs, different from that 
pursued by a party with which they have habitually 
acted, and is generally intended to intimate a sus- 
picion of corrupt or interested motives. In reality, 
a difference of this kind does not, in all cases, sup- 
pose even inconsistency in principle. The questions 
upon which parties are divided are continually 
changing ; and, with the few who form opinions for 
themselves, it must be a matter of mere accident 
whether, in reasoning upon a new state of things, 
they come to the same conclusions which are drawn 
by others with whom they had agreed before upon 
a different subject. 

In the present case, it might, perhaps, have ap- 
peared more natural that Henry, who had opposed 
the Federal Constitution, as tending too strongly to 



PATRICK HENRY . IS5 

concentrate power in the government, should have 
afterwards favored the strictest construction of that 
instrument; while, on the other hand, it may be 
thought singular that Madison, the great champion 
of a vigorous general government in the Federal and 
Virginia Conventions, should have insisted on the 
construction more favorable to State-rights and in- 
dividual liberty. But, after all, the questions of the 
Alien and Sedition Laws, and of our relations with 
France, which formed the principal topics of party 
controversy at this period, were essentially different 
from that of the adoption or rejection of the Federal 
Constitution; and it is quite unnecessary, and of 
course uncharitable and unjust, to suppose that 
either of the two great Virginia statesmen was gov- 
erned, in the course he pursued, by any other than 
the purest and most patriotic motives. 

This is now universally acknowledged in the case 
of Mr. Madison, whose name and memory are 
equally respected by all parties; and it is presumed 
that the verdict of public opinion is not less favorable 
in regard to Henry. In neither case could there be 
the slightest pretence for the imputation of interested 
views ; and both, in taking a course which necessarily 
exposed them to a good deal of temporary obloquy, 
evinced a moral courage in a high degree honorable 
to their general characters. In a letter to his daugh- 
ter, Mrs. Aylett, written in 1796, Henry repels the 
idea of any change in his opinions upon the leading 
principles of political philosophy, and gives his rea- 
sons, founded on the merits of the particular cases, 
for differing from his former associates upon the 



156 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

points then at issue. It is unnecessary, for the pres- 
ent purpose, to pursue the subject in any further 
detail. 

After his retirement from political life, Henry 
continued for several years the practice of his labori- 
ous profession with undiminished reputation and 
success. In the class of cases which require or ad- 
mit the dignity of eloquence he stood, by general 
acknowledgment, at the head of the bar, and though 
less familiar with the technical learning of the law 
than some others, yet, whenever the questions in- 
volved were of sufficient interest to engage his atten- 
tion, he qualified himself for the occasion and main- 
tained his usual undisputed preeminence. The cele- 
brated case* of the British debts, which he argued 
twice for two or three days in succession, was, per- 
haps, the most important in which he was engaged. 
A report of his second argument is given, at great 
length, by Mr. Wirt, from the notes of Robertson, 
the reporter of the debates in the Virginia Conven- 
tion ; and although, doubtless, (as every such report 
must necessarily be,) a very imperfect copy of the 
orator's language, it conveys the impression of the 
highest order of forensic ability. In 1794, he finally 
retired from professional life and, with the excep- 
tion of the brief periods of political action already 
alluded to, passed his remaining years in the bosom 
of his family. 

The steady pursuit of his profession, to which he 
had of late devoted himself, had supplied him with a 
competent fortune. By his two marriages he was 
the father of fifteen children, eleven of whom, with 



PATRICK HENRY 1 57 

his second wife, were living at his death. He thus 
enjoyed the highest satisfaction that can belong to 
the declining period of life in the society and affec- 
tion of a numerous offspring. He retained, to the 
last, the cheerful and sportive temperament which 
formed, in youth, his most remai'kable characteristic. 
He was frequently found by his visitors joining in 
the games of his little grandchildren, and entrancing 
them with the music of the same violin which had so 
often in his early days seduced him from the graver 
occupations of the counting-room. His love of con- 
versation and society had always been intense; and 
being now relieved from care and business of every 
kind he gave himself up without restraint to this 
cherished passion. He was always surrounded by a 
circle of family connections and neighbors, including 
a constant succession of strangers from other States 
and foreign countries, who were attracted by his 
high reputation to visit him at his residence. In the 
court before his door there was a large walnut-tree 
under which he often passed his summer evenings 
and entertained his friends. 

Imagination can present no brighter picture of a 
happy old age than is exhibited in the real life of 
Henry; and, when we compare this charming spec- 
tacle with that of the cares and privations which 
have clouded the closing years of some of our great- 
est Revolutionary patriots, we are forced to acknowl- 
edge that the strict private economy with which 
Henry has sometimes been reproached as a fault, 
when combined, as it was in his case, with a genial 
temperament and a liberal discharge of all the duties 



158 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

of life, was not so much a venial error as an actual, 
positive, and most important virtue. He had been 
always strongly impressed with the importance of 
religion, and had studied with care the best books on 
the subject that came within his reach. In the year 
1790, he published, at his own expense, for gratui- 
tous distribution among the people, an edition of 
Soame Jenyns's *' View of the Internal Evidences of 
Christianity." Among his favorite works were 
Doddridge's '' Rise and Progress of Religion in the 
Soul," and Butler's " Analogy of Religion, Natural 
and Revealed " ; a selection not less honorable to his 
literary taste than to his religious character. In 
his last days he dwelt with augmented interest on 
these great subjects. 

To a friend, who visited him not long before his 
death and found him engaged in reading the Bible, 
he remarked : *' This is a book worth more than all 
the others that were ever printed. It is my misfor- 
tune not to have found time'to read it with the proper 
attention and feeling till lately. I trust in the mercy 
of Heaven that it is not yet too late." It appears, 
from the language used on this occasion, and from 
other circumstances, that he inclined to what is 
popularly called the Orthodox view of Christianity; 
but he was entirely free from sectarian dogmatism, 
and did not even connect himself in form with any 
denomination of Christians. He had probably 
reached, by the power of his own instinctive sagacity, 
that higher view towards which the public mind is 
now struggling, without having yet fully attained it, 
which regards the points that divide the different 



PATRICK HENRY t59 

sects from each other as comparatively Immaterial, 
and the essence of religion as residing in those that 
are common to them all. 

In his person, Henry was tall and thin, with a 
slight stoop of the shoulders. His complexion was 
dark, and his face furrowed by deep lines of care 
and thought, which gave it a somewhat severe as- 
pect. In his youth, he was rather inattentive to his 
dress ; but in his later years, especially on public oc- 
casions, and while he occupied the executive chair, 
he paid, in this respect, a proper regard to the de- 
corum required by his position in society. At the 
bar of the General Assembly he always appeared in 
a full suit of black cloth, or velvet, with a tie-wig 
dressed and powdered in the hig'hest style of forensic 
fashion ; and in the winter season he wore over his 
other apparel, in accordance with the usage of the 
time, an ample scarlet cloak. As he advanced in 
years, he also exchanged the rusticity of his youthful 
maniiers for a deportment distinguished by entire 
self-possession, and, on proper occasions, by an air 
of stateliness and elegance. He is represented, by 
those who have been present when he has entered the 
hall of the Assembly for the purpose of arguing 
some important case, as '* saluting the House all 
round with a dignity, and even majesty, that would 
have done honor to the most polished courtier in 
Europe." 

The leading traits in his intellectual -and moral 
character have been often alluded to in the course 
of this narrative, and are shown too clearly in his 
practical life to require an elaborate recapitulation. 



l6o AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

He possessed an Instinctive sagacity, which suppHed 
to a great extent the deficiencies of his education ; a 
moral courage, which led him to spurn at all consid- 
erations of mere temporary expediency when he was 
once satisfied where the right lay, and a naturally 
noble and generous heart. To these latter qualities 
he owed his extraordinary efficiency and success as 
a public speaker. Eloquence no doubt supposes, in 
general, the natural gift of an easy, copious, and 
flowing utterance ; but this is not a rare endowment, 
and when wholly or chiefly relied upon for effect is 
apt to tire, rather than convince or dehght, an audi- 
ence. It rises into eloquence only when it becomes 
the expression of powerful thought, and especially 
of deep feehng. 

While the speaker only gratifies the ear with me- 
lodious tones and pleases the eye with graceful ges- 
tures, he is in some degree successful, but does not 
produce the highest possible effect. Nor does he 
reach the perfection of his art when he merely suc- 
ceeds in convincing the judgment by a train of 
sound or plausible reasoning. It is only when he 
acts upon the moral part of our nature, by stirring 
and successful appeals to the passions, that he 
kindles enthusiasm, and becomes for the moment a 
sort of divinity. The power of producing such ef- 
fects, of making such appeals with* success, is itself 
in great measure the result of a naturally keen sen- 
sibility, which is accordingly represented by the 
greatest critic of antiquity as the foundation of ex- 
cellence in public speaking. Pectus est quod facit 
disertum. But even this essential requisite is not 



PATRICK HENRY l6l 

sufficient; for the orator must not only move and 
melt, but, on proper occasions, alarm, terrify, and 
subjugate his hearers. In order to succeed in this, 
he must possess the moral courage, the undaunted 
self-possession, the overwhelming energy of charac- 
ter, which enables him to point the artillery of his 
eloquence at its object, under all circumstances, and 
without regard to personal consequences. 

In the possession, in a much higher degree than 
others, of these transcendent moral qualifications for 
success in oratory, lay the secret of the supremacy 
of Henry over his distinguished contemporaries and 
rivals, some of whom, as, for instance, Richard 
Henry Lee, were much above him in literary accom- 
plishments and external graces of manner. In this 
lay the peculiar charm, which, by general acknowl- 
edgment, hung upon his lips, as it does upon those of 
every truly eloquent speaker, and which the hearer 
can only feel without being able to describe. De- 
scription, in fact, embraces only such particulars as 
meet the eye and ear ; but the sympathy which rouses 
and inflames the moral part of our nature is a kind 
of magnetic impulse that passes from the heart of 
the speaker to that of his audience, eluding observa- 
tion, and only recognized in its overwhelming 
results. 

The language which forms the medium for the 
transmission of this impulse, and which is identical 
in its essence with the highest poetry, transcends, of 
course, the talent of the ordinary reporter. It can 
never be reduced to a permanent form, excepting 
when the orator himself combines with the requisites 

A. B., VOL. in.— II 



l62 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

of his own art the talent of a first-rate writer. To 
this rare combination of powers we owe the finished 
specimens which have come down to us of the elo- 
quence of the two great orators of Greece and Rome. 
Chatham, the first of British speakers, either wanted 
the talent of writing, or did not exercise it in his 
own speeches; which correspond very imperfectly 
with the effects that we know to have attended their 
delivery. Henry, like him, had never cultivated, 
and rarely exercised, the art of writing ; the reports 
of his speeches, while they furnish an outline of the 
argument, convey no image of the glowing language 
in which they were clothed, still less of the moral in- 
spiration that chiefly gave them effect. They fall, 
of course, far below his fame ; and it is, after all, on 
the faith of mere tradition, attested, however, by 
facts too numerous and of too public a character to 
leave it in any way doubtful that the present and fu- 
ture generations will acknowledge the justice of his 
claim to the proud title that has been given him, of 
the greatest orator of the New World. 



LIFE OF 
MAJOR-GENERAL 

NATHANIEL GREENE 



BY 



J. r. HEADLEY 



MAJOR-GEN. NATHANIEL GREENE 



His early Life. — Whipped by his Father. — Appointed Brigadier- 
General. — Is Sick during the Battle of Long Island. — 
Bravery at Brandywine, and Germantown, and Springfield. 
— Appointed over the Southern Army. — Battle of Covvpens. 
— His famous retreat through the Carolinas. — Battle of 
Guilford. — Battle of Hobkirk's Hill. — Turns fiercely on 
Cornwallis's Line of Posts. — Storming of Ninety-six. — Bat- 
tle of Eutaw Springs. — Distress and Nakedness of his Army. 
— Triumphant Entrance into Charleston. — Removes South. 
— Death and Character. 

It is pleasant to take up a character, the resplen- 
dent qualities of which are not darkened by serious 
defects. Arnold was adventurous and heroic, but he 
lacked principle — Lee, brilliant and brave, but too 
ambitious; while Greene possessed all their good 
qualities, with none of their bad ones. Poor, and 
without patrons, he began his career on the lowest 
steps of fame's ladder, and by his energy and effort 
alone, reached the highest — yet he never becam^ 
dizzy by elevation, nor exhibited any of those weak 
or wicked passions power and rank so invariably 
develop. 

Nathaniel Greene was born in Warwick, 
Rhode Island, May 27th, 1742, and hence was a 
young man at the breaking out of the Revolution. 
His father was a Quaker preacher; and young Na- 

165 



1 66 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

thaniel was early instructed in the principles of peace 
and universal brotherhood. To have seen him about 
on the farm, in his drab suit and broad-brimmed hat, 
or sitting meek and grave as a statue in one of those 
silent conventicles, one would never have picked him 
out for a major-general in the American army. His 
father owned a forge, and to this Nathaniel was 
finally promoted from the farm, and worked at the 
anvil with the same vigor he afterwards did in ham- 
mering out his own fortune. For awhile his youthful 
energy and ambition expended itself in athletic 
sports, such as wrestling, leaping, throwing the bar, 
and so forth, and in these none swung a more vigor- 
ous or steadier arm than he. He was very fond of 
dancing, which, of course, was looked upon by his 
sect with abhorrence. To have the son of a Quaker 
preacher the wildest in the frolic, and the merriest 
in all the dance, was a public scandal not to be toler- 
ated a moment, and the most peremptory commands 
were laid on young Greene. The latter pretended" "to 
obey ; but after his grave father was asleep he would 
often drop from his chamber window, and steal away 
to the scene of mirth. The suspicious parent, how- 
ever, got wind of it in some way, and so, one night, 
when there was to be a large ball in the neighbor- 
hood, kept watch. Finding, late in the evening, that 
his son had gone, the old gentleman locked the door 
of the house, and, with a horsewhip in his hand, be- 
gan to pace backwards and forwards under the win- 
dow from which the culprit had escaped. The latter, 
returning home before daylight, saw through the 
gloom the figure of his father slowly moving to and 



NATHANIEL GREENE 167 

fro, and he knew what to expect. To wait at a dis- 
tance till morning would lead to certain detection, 
and to enter the house without being discovered was 
impossible, and so, after holding a short council of 
war with himself over the matter, he determined to 
advance boldly and take the flogging prepared for 
him. But with that quick invention which after- 
wards served him so well on more important occa- 
sions, he slipped some shingles under his coat behind, 
to deaden the blows of the horsewhip, which he knew 
his stern father would wield with no baby hand. 
Having taken this wise precaution, he walked boldly 
up and took the castigation. The shingles, however, 
did their duty, much to the young culprit's gratifica- 
tion. 

But his strong mind could not long be satisfied 
with these follies, and he soon became enamoured of 
books, and, whether in the field or at the forge, was 
ever found with one by his side. He took up Euclid 
by himself, and mastered its difficult problems with- 
out assistance. While his iron was heating, he would 
sit down, and with his soiled hands turn over the 
pages of the renowned geometer with delight. This 
and similar studies, gave to his mind a breadth and 
grasp which he never could have obtained in his 
ordinary occupations. All the pocket-money he 
could raise was spent in purchasing books, and he 
made toys or trinkets of various kinds which he dis- 
posed of for the same object. His craving mind, 
having once seized on books, it seemed impossible to 
satisfy it ; and hence, at the age of twenty, he laid the 
basis of a powerful character. Abstemious — eating 



1 68 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

but two meals a day, he devoted all his leisure hours 
to the cultivation of his mind, and the accumulation 
of knowledge, and before twenty-eight years old, had 
a library of two hundred and fifty volumes. In 1770 
he was elected member of the General Assembly of 
the colony, and entered at once with all the ardor of 
his nature into the contest which had commenced 
between the colonies and the parent country. He 
was soon convinced that the battle-field must decide 
the question, and, casting aside all his Quaker preju- 
dices, resolved to draw his sword for freedom. He 
immediately plunged into the intricacies of military 
science, and eagerly devoured every book relating to 
the subject on which he could lay his hands. Bold 
and decided, he made no concealment of his determi- 
nation : and the sect to which he belonged, unable, of 
course, to overlook this violation of their rules, called 
him to account. But neither persuasions nor threats 
could change the young Quaker's purpose, and he 
was cut off from the society. His drab coat and 
broad-brimmed hat were now thrown to the winds ; 
and with his musket on his shoulder, he entered, as 
a private, one of the many independent companies 
then everywhere forming. 

In the year 1774 he was married ; but not even the 
attractions of his young bride could restrain him 
from the scene of danger. The next year the battles 
of Lexington and Concord were fought, and the rat- 
tling of arms was heard the length and breadth of 
the land, as the entire nation rose to defend its 
hearth-stones. Greene immediately started for Bos- 
ton. In the organization of an army, which fol- 



NATHANIEL GREENE 169 

lowed, Rhode Island voted to raise a force of sixteeti 
hundred men, and appointed Greene major-general. 

After the battle of Bunker Hill, he joined the army 
at Cambridge. Congress, in appointing the officers 
of the continental army, was compelled in some cases 
to change the rank held by the provincial command- 
ers ; and Greene, under the new arrangement, sunk 
to brigadier-general. He immediately entered upon 
a course of discipline, the effect of which was soon 
apparent in the troops under his command. This 
habit formed at the outset, was of great use to him 
ever afterwards. 

He seems, also, to have studied more deeply than 
many others the character of the quarrel between the 
two countries, and his strong mind to have forecast 
the necessity of a more decisive step than the mere 
redress of grievances ; for, from his camp at Prospect 
Hill, he writes to a member of Congress, saying, 
" Permit me to recommend, from the sincerity of a 
heart at all times ready to bleed in my country's 
cause, a declaration of independence, and call upon 
the world, and the great God who governs it, to wit- 
ness the necessity, propriety, and rectitude thereof." 

He early won the confidence and esteem of Wash- 
ington, and the latter sent him in the Spring to oc- 
cupy Long Island with his brigade. He entered on 
his work with ardor — examined the ground, estab- 
lished his posts, and made all the preparations in his 
power, to give the enemy a warm reception. But at 
this critical juncture, he was seized with a bilious 
fever, which laid him on his back, and for a while 
seriously threatened his life. It was thus Putnam 



I/O AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

became placed over his troops, who, from his ig- 
norance of the ground, and unpreparedness every 
way, suffered that defeat, which, but for the prompt- 
ness and energy, generalship and skill of Washing- 
ton, would have proved fatal to the whole army. 
One can imagine what a brave man like Greene must 
have felt, in being compelled to lie idle in such an 
important crisis. Just as his career was opening, and 
after all the labor and drudgery had been gone 
through, to be thrown aside as a useless thing, was a 
most bitter disappointment. Besides, the fate of his 
brave troops, of which he had become so fond and 
so proud, might rest on the manner in which they 
were led into action. From his sick bed he heard the 
thunder of the first cannon, as it shook the house in 
which he lay helpless, and half-rising from his fever- 
ish couch, he exclaimed, " Gracious God, to be con- 
fined at such a time! " His brave heart was wrung 
with such sorrow as only heroes know, and as the 
uproar of the combat increased, his agitation became 
intense. Explosion after explosion shook his bed, 
and his eager inquiries as to the fate of the battle, 
could brook no delay. At last, when told that his 
favorite regiment — that of Swallwood — had been 
terribly handled and cut to pieces, he could contain 
himself no longer, but burst into an agony of tears. 
In the meantime, he had been promoted to the rank 
of major-general. As soon as he could sit his horse, 
he took the field, and. was present at the battle of 
Harlaem Heights. The capture of the garrison of 
Fort Washington, was owing chiefiy to Greene's 
want of judgment, who insisted on holding it against 



NATHANIEL GREENE 



171 



the enemy. He always contended, however, that his 
views in the case were correct, and that had the 
troops proved sufficiently brave, the fort could not 
have been taken. He was beside Washington in his 
memorable retreat through the Jerseys, and in the 
brilliant movement upon Trenton, commanded the 
division which the latter accompanied in person. In 
that fearful night and fearful passage, he exhibited 
the coolness and stern resolution which afterwards 
so characterized him. He was with him also in the 
march on Princeton, and led his battalions to the 
charge with incredible fury. In these desperate en- 
counters, the young Quaker had taken severe lessons 
in the art of war, while the heroism and personal ex- 
posure of the commander-in-chief had shown him 
how a general should behave in the moment of peril. 
He gazed in admiration on him, as he rode amid the 
guns through the gloom and storm towards Trenton, 
and saw, with unbounded delight, that tall form spur 
into the deadly volleys at Princeton. His heart fas- 
tened at once on his glorious leader, and amid all the 
dangers and conspiracies that afterwards shook so 
terribly the integrity of many of the officers, his love 
and faithfulness never faltered. 

When the army went into winter-quarters at Mor- 
ristown, he was despatched to Congress to push that 
dilatory body to an immediate re-organization of the 
forces. He afterwards was sent to examine the 
passes of the Highlands ; but Spring found him again 
at his post. At the battle of Brandywine— the finale 
to the manoeuvres that had been performed all sum- 
mer, he exhibited that decision, and power over his 



172 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

soldiers, which rendered him such a dreaded antago- 
nist. At the commencement of the action he had 
been stationed far in the rear, as a reserve, to co- 
operate with any portion of the army which needed 
him most. But 'when the flight commenced, he 
hastened up, and marching his men four miles in 
forty-nine minutes, met the terrified disordered army. 
Untouched by the panic and terror around them, his 
brave troops wheeled sternly in front of the pursuing, 
shouting enemy. As the throng of fugitives came 
pouring on them, the ranks would open and let them 
pass, then close again, as the turbulent stream rolled 
away over the field. Thus opening and shutting his 
steady ranks, and slowly retreating, Greene at length 
cleared himself of the shattered army, and reaching 
a narrow defile, made a bold stand. Encouraging 
his little band, by voice and gesture, he held it to the 
shock for three-quarters of an hour. His firm front 
and steady volleys repelled every effort — and at 
length, as darkness shut in the scene, the enemy with- 
drew, and he hastened up to the main army. The 
conduct of his troops on this occasion, in thus with- 
standing the panic around them, and steadily holding 
in check the entire British force, was worthy the 
veteran armies of Europe. 

In the battle of Germantown, which followed, he 
commanded the left wing, and did all that could be 
done to save the battle. In the retreat the gunners 
forsook their pieces, and he, after trying in vain to 
rally them, made them take hold of hands, and thus 
drag the artillery off. During this year he was ap- 
pointed quartermaster-general, and his energy and 



NATHANIEL GREENE 1 73 

industry soon wrought a wonderful change in this 
hitherto neglected department of the army. The 
next winter his home was a log hut at Valley Forge. 
At the battle of Monmouth, which opened the sum- 
mer campaign, he commanded the right wing, and 
brought his troops nobly into action. His heavy 
guns sent disorder through the advancing lines, and 
gave double power to Wayne's charge on the centre. 
In July he was sent to Rhode Island to co-operate 
with Lafayette and Sullivan in the projected descent 
on Newport, and covered that skilful retreat which 
saved the army. 

In the discharge of his duties as quartermaster- 
general, he had exhibited not only his energy and 
skill, but also the noblest moral qualities, in bearing 
up against suspicion and hate and slander, and gen- 
erously sinking his own feelings and reputation in 
the general good. But at length Congress made his 
department so odious to the people that he deter- 
mined to resign. Washington, however, persuaded 
him to remain until he could present a plan to the 
government which, if accepted, would put his depart- 
ment on a proper footing. The plan, instead of being 
adopted, was mutilated and sent back, and Greene 
resigned. The letter conveying his resignation was, 
both in its manner and spirit, a stern and severe con- 
demnation of the conduct of Congress; and that 
body, swayed by passion and faction more than by 
judgment and patriotism, instantly proposed to dis- 
miss him from the service altogether. A fierce dis- 
cussion ensued, and the friends of Greene could 
scarcely check the torrent of wrath that was about 



1/4 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

to roll on his head. Washin^on heard of It, and 
wrote letters of earnest entreaty and solemn warning, 
telling those factious members to beware how they 
touched one so necessary to the country, and so be- 
loved by the soldiers. Better counsels finally pre- 
vailed, and Greene's resignation was received with- 
out any reference to his rank in the line. 

During the year 1780 occurred his heroic defence 
at Springfield, New Jersey. Washington, fearing 
the enemy was about to make a demonstration on 
West Point, moved towards the Hudson, leaving 
Greene, with only thirteen hundred men at Spring- 
field. Here the latter received intelligence that Sir 
Henry Clinton, with five thousand British troops, 
had landed at Elizabethtown, and was marching 
against him. With his little band drawn up on the 
western bank of the Rahway, he coolly waited their 
approach. His first position was by the bridges, and 
his second on the heights in the rear. Soon the ad- 
vancing columns emerged into view, and as they 
came within range, opened their artillery, and a fierce 
cannonade was kept up for two hours. Finding all 
attempts to dislodge our troops with the artillery 
fruitless, the infantry were ordered to advance, and 
soon opened their fire. Our men withstood gallantly 
for a while this overwhelming force; and when at 
length they were compelled to retreat, did so in per- 
fect order, and slowly fell back to their second posi- 
tion. Here Greene waited anxiously for a second 
struggle; but Clinton wisely forbore, and returning 
to the village, commenced the nobler work of burn- 
ing it to the ground. Having accomplished this feat, 



NATHANIEL CxREENE 1 75 

he rapidly retreated, lest Washington should turn 
upon him. 

In the fall of this year, when the treason of Arnold 
sent consternation through the countr}% Greene was 
in command of the army — Washington being at the 
time absent on a journey to Hartford, to confer with 
the French commanders. On him fell the painful 
duty of presiding at the court-martial which tried 
and condemned Andre. West Point was immediate- 
ly put under his command ; but scarcely had he en- 
tered upon his duties before he was called to the 
South, to repair the ruin wrought by Gates's terrible 
defeat at Camden. Although he had now been five 
years in service without any interval of repose, and 
his property was wasting away through want of his 
supervision, and his strong constitution was shat- 
tered by constant exposure, he hastened without de- 
lay to the new field of his labor. 

From this point commences the real history of 
Greene. Intrusted with a separate command, at a 
distance from the commander-in-chief and Congress, 
and surrounded by all the difficulties that try men 
most, the resources of his powerful mind, and his 
amazing energies, began to develop themselves. He 
had hitherto been an able and efificient under-ofificer ; 
he was now to show that he possessed the higher 
qualities necessary to conduct a long and arduous 
campaign to a successful issue. But the obstacles 
that met him on the threshold, were enough to daunt 
even a more resolute heart than his. Gates's over- 
throw had left everything in the worst possible state ; 
so that he was hurled into a perfect chaos, and ex- 



176 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

pected to bring order out of confusion, and strength 
out of weakness. Without money, without stores, 
without anything necessary to carry on a campaign, 
he joined his army, which, all counted, could not 
muster two thousand men. Destitute of clothing, 
of arms and ammunition, tattered, half-starved and 
dispirited, covered with every and any article they 
could lay hands on, they presented the appearance of 
a motley crowd, rather than of a well-appointed and 
organized force. Out of the whole he could muster 
but eight hundred men fit for service. With these — 
an empty magazine — no provisions, and a few pieces 
of cannon, he was expected to make head against 
Cornwallis, with a well-disciplined and powerful 
army at his back. True, there were some cheering 
features to this otherwise hopeless prospect — the 
officers under his command were as brave men as 
ever drew sword in battle. There was Morgan, a 
host in himself — Lee, with his fierce legion — Marion, 
Vvith his trusty partisans — the gallant Sumpter; the 
headlong and fiery-hearted Washington, with his 
cavalry; forming a group of leaders to which the 
British army could furnish no parallel. 

Greene's first step was to locate his troops where 
he could be safe from attack, until he could drill 
them, and obtain the necessary reinforcements to 
take the field. This was no easy task ; for the British 
army, then lying at Winnsborough, flanked by strong 
garrisons, was on the alert, and ready at any moment 
to fall on their weak adversary, and crush him at a 
single blow. Relying on himself alone, Greene called 
no council of war, and commenced at once that deep 



NATHANIEL GREENE 1 77 

and daring game, which baffled all the efforts of 
Cornwallis to fathom. Selecting a strong post on 
the frontiers of South Carolina for the main army, 
he sent Morgan with a few hundred troops to hover 
about the enemy, and strike wherever an opportunity 
offered. This division of his forces, already too 
weak, has been condemned by some, as a violation 
of the rules of military art ; and so it would have been 
under ordinary circumstances. The smaller the 
force the greater the concentration, is a rule which in 
active warfare it will not do to violate. But Greene 
wanted time — delay was of vital importance to him, 
and this he could not expect with his army located in 
one place, and constantly exposed to the attack of a 
superior enemy. He divided his forces, not so much 
to give strength to his own operations, as to bewilder 
his antagonist ; and it had the desired effect. Corn- 
wallis scarcely knew which way to turn, or where 
his wary adversary was about to strike, and hence 
divided his own forces. Had he known the situation 
and plans of Greene, he might easily have destroyed 
him, by marching his entire army first upon one, and 
then upon the other detachment of the Americans. 
But Greene had calculated wisely ; his adversary was 
thrown into perturbation as he discovered Lee, 
Marion, and Morgan, hanging threateningly on his 
flanks. 

BATTLE OF COWPENS 

But Cornwallis at length saw the error he had been 
led into, and immediately concentrating his troops, 
moved forward upon Morgan. Tarleton, with eleven 

A. B., VOL. III.— 12 



178 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

hundred men, was ordered to meet him in front, 
while he himself, with the main part of the army, 
would cut off his retreat. Morgan, with less than a 
thousand men, immediately began to retire; but 
Tarleton, with his accustomed vigor, pressed him so 
hard, that when he came to Broad River he dared 
not attempt the passage, and so resolved to make a 
desperate stand where he was. He divided his troops 
into two portions, one in the open field, and the other 
behind it in the wood. Tarleton formed his men into 
two lines, with the artillery in the centre, and the 
cavalry on either flank. In this order they moved 
forward to the attack. After a single fire the first 
American line gave way, and the victorious enemy, 
with loud huzzas, pressed forward upon the second. 
Here, however, they met with a stern resistance, and 
the close volleys of the Americans made terrible 
havoc. Tarleton seeing this, hurried up a part of his 
second line, and, at the same time, ordered his cav- 
alry to charge the right. This double movement was 
completely successful, and the victorious .British 
swept the field with deafening shouts. In this critical 
moment, Washington, who had calmly sat and 
watched every movement, ordered his bugler to 
sound the charge, and placing himself at the head of 
his squadron, shouted them to follow. With their 
sabres shaking above their heads, they burst in a 
headlong gallop upon the astonished infantry. 
Through and through their broken ranks they rode, 
scattering them like a whirlwind from their path. 
The British cavalry rolled back in confusion before 
the fierce onset, and the battle was restored. This 



NATHANIEL GREENE 1 79 

gave time to Morgan to rally his infantry.* With 
his sword flashing above his head, and his tremen- 
dous voice ringing over the din of arms, he moved 
amid his disordered troops, and at length, by com- 
mands and threats, and the most prodigious efforts, 
rallied them to the charge, and moving at their head, 
poured them in one wild torrent on the enemy. The 
shock of those thousand men was tremendous; and 
the English army stopped, and quivered a moment 
before it, then broke and fled in wild confusion, tram- 
pled down at every step by Washington's cavalry. 
Out of the eleven hundred men Tarleton led into 
battle, he saved but four hundred. Two cannon, 
eight hundred muskets, a hundred dragoon-horses, 
and tents and ammunition, w^ere the fruits of this 
victory. 

Scarcely had the roar of battle ceased before Mor- 
gan began to retreat. He knew Cornwallis, with a 
powerful army, w^as close upon him, and an hour's 
delay might lose him all the fruits of his gallant 
achievement. The British commander strained every 
nerve to cut him off, and recover the spoils and 
prisoners that had been taken. But with such vigor 
had Morgan pushed his retreat, that his adversary 
was unable to overtake him, and came up to the 
Catawba just in time to see the last of the rear-guard 
form on the opposite shore. Still it was possible to 
reach him before he could effect a junction with 
Greene, and he resolved to spare no sacrifice to secure 

* Howard and Pinckney wrought prodigies — making the 
militia charge bayonet like old veterans. The former had at 
one time five swords of officers who had surrendered, in his 
hands. 



l80 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

this result. He immediately ordered the baggage of 
the army to be destroyed, so that it could move rapid- 
ly and without encumbrance. Liquor casks were 
staved in before the soldiers — wagons consumed, 
and all those things which go to make up the little 
comforts of a camp committed to the flames. Corn- 
wallis set the example — and beginning with his own 
baggage, the destruction continued till it reached the 
last private. It took two days to complete it — and 
then, stripped like a wrestler for the struggle, the 
British general moved forward. But Greene, with 
only a single aid, and a sergeant's guard of dragoons, 
had left the main army, and pressed forward a hun- 
dred and fifty miles to succor Morgan. The victors 
of Cowpens received him with acclamations as he 
rode into camp. With him at their head they feared 
nothing, and joyfully entered on the race with their 
adversary. 

SKILFUL RETREAT THROUGH THE CAROLINAS 

Greene had ordered the main army to rendezvous 
at Guilford, and thither he now directed his steps, 
closely watched by Cornwallis. 

To understand the ground over which this re- 
markable retreat was performed, it is necessary only 
to glance at a map. Three large rivers rise in the 
north-west parts of South and North Carolina, and 
flow in a south-easterly direction into the Atlantic. 
The lower, or more southern one, is the Catawba, 
which empties into the Santee. The next, north of it, 
ar ' nearly parallel, is the Yadkin, emptying into the 



NATHANIEL GREENE l8l 

Pedee. The last, and more northern, Is the Dan, 
which soon leaves its south-easterly direction, and 
winds backwards and forwards across the Virginia 
line, and finally falls into the Roanoke. Greene was 
now on the Catawba, or most southern river, and 
directed his steps north — his line of progress cutting 
the Yadkin and Dan. To place a deep river between 
two armies effectually separates them for some time, 
while a retreating army between one and a powerful 
adversary, is almost sure to be ruined. Therefore, 
the great effort of Cornwallis was to overtake his 
weak enemy somewhere between the rivers, while the 
latter strained every nerve to keep a deep stream 
dividing him and his foe. Greene was now across 
the Catawba, which, swollen by the recent rains, pre- 
vented Cornwallis from crossing. But at length it 
began to subside, and the latter determined, by a 
night-march to a private ford near Salisbury to de- 
ceive his antagonist, and cross without opposition. 
But Greene had been on the alert, and stationed a 
body of militia there to dispute the passage. At day- 
break, the British column was seen silently approach- 
ing the river. A deep hush was on everything, 
broken only by the roar of the swollen waters, and 
not a living thing was to be seen on the shore. Twi- 
light still rested on the forest, and the turbid foam- 
covered stream looked doubly appalling in the gloom. 
The rain was falling in torrents, and the British 
commander, as he reined up his steed on the slippery 
banks, looked long and anxiously on the farther side. 
There all was wild and silent ; but faint flashes of the 
American fires, in the woods, told too well that he 



1 82 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

had been forestalled. Still, the order to advance was 
given, and the column boldly entered the channel. 
With muskets poised above their heads to keep them 
dry, and leaning against each other, to steady their 
slippery footing, the grenadiers pushed forward. As 
they advanced the water deepened, until it flowed 
in a strong, swift current, up to their waists. The 
cavalry went plunging through, but the rapid stream 
bore many of them, both horses and riders, down- 
ward in the darkness. The head of the column had 
already reached the centre of the river, when the 
voices of the sentinels rung through the darkness, 
and the next moment their guns flashed through the 
storm. The Americans, five hundred in number, im- 
mediately poured in a destructive volley, but the 
British troops pressed steadily forward. Soldier 
after soldier rolled over in the flood, and Cornwallis's 
horse was shot under him ; but the noble animal, with 
a desperate effort, carried his rider to the bank before 
he fell. The intrepid troops at length reached the 
shore, and routed the militia. Cornwallis was now 
on the same side of the river with his antagonist, and 
prepared to follow up his advantage with vigor. But 
the latter no sooner heard that the enemy had passed 
the Catawba, than he ordered the retreat to the Yad- 
kin. Through the drenching rain and deep mud, 
scarcely halting to eat or rest, the ragged troops 
dragged their weary way, and on the third day 
reached the river, and commenced crossing. In the 
meantime, the recent rains had swollen this river 
also, so that by the time Greene had safely effected 
the passage, the current was foaming by on a level 



NATHANIEL GREENE 183 

with its banks. He had urged everything forward 
with the utmost speed, and at midnight, just as the 
last of the rear-guard were embarking, they were 
saluted with a volley from the advanced guard of 
the British. When the morning light broke over the 
scene, there lay the two armies within sight of each 
other, and the blessed Yadkin surging and roaring 
in threatening accents between, as if on purpose to 
daunt the invaders from its bosom. Stung into mad- 
ness at this second escape of their enemy, the English 
lined the shore with artillery, and opened a fierce 
cannonade on the American camp. But the army, 
protected by an elevated ridge, rested quietly and 
safely behind it. In a little cabin, just showing its 
roof above the rocks, Greene took up his quarters, 
and while his troops were reposing, commenced writ- 
ing his despatches. The enemy suspecting the 
American general had established himself there, di- 
rected his artillery upon it, and soon the rocks rung 
with the balls that smoked and bounded from their 
sides. It was not long before the roof of the cabin 
was struck, and the shingles and clapboards began to 
fly about in every direction — but the stern warrior 
within never once looked up, and wrote on as calmly 
as if in his peaceful home. 

Four days the British general tarried on the shores 
of the Yadkin, and then, as the waters subsided, 
again put his army in motion. Moving lower down 
the river, he crossed over, and started anew after his 
adversary. But the latter, ever vigilant, was already 
on his march for Guilford, where he resolved to make 
a stand, and strike this bold Briton to the heart. But 



1 84 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

on reaching Guilford, he learned, to his dismay, that 
the reinforcements promised him had not arrived. 
The English army was nearly double that of his own, 
and all well-tried, disciplined soldiers ; and he knew 
it would be madness to give battle on such disad- 
vantageous terms. There was, therefore, no remedy 
but retreat, and this had now become a difficult mat- 
ter. In the hope of being able to sustain himself at 
Guilford, he had suffered his enemy to approach so 
near, and block him in so effectually, that there was 
but one possible way of escape. Cornwallis at last 
deemed his prey secure. 

On the loth of February, this battle of manoeuvres 
again commenced, and the two armies, now only 
twenty-five miles apart, stretched forward. Corn- 
wallis supposed his adversary would make for the 
upper fords of the Dan, as there was nothing but 
ferries below, and hence put his army in such a posi- 
tion that he could crush him at once; but Greene 
quietly withdrew towards the Lower Dan, where he 
ordered boats to be congregated, in which he could 
transport his troops over. His object in this was 
twofold ; first, to place a deep instead of a fordable 
river between him and his formidable adversary, and 
secondly, to be in a situation to effect a junction with 
the reinforcements he expected from Virginia. Dis- 
covering at once the error under which Cornwallis 
labored, he added to it by sending a large detach- 
ment to manoeuvre in front, as if the upper fords 
were indeed the object of his efforts. Colonel Wil- 
liams commanded this chosen body of men, and 
marched boldly against the entire English army. 



NATHANIEL GREENE 1 85 

The British commander, thinking it to be the ad- 
vanced guard of the Americans, began hastily to 
contract his hnes, and make preparations for a fierce 
resistance. This detained his march, and allowed 
Greene to get a start, without which he must inevita- 
bly have been lost. The English were without bag- 
gage; indeed, the whole army had been converted 
into light infantry, which enabled it to move with 
much more alacrity than that of the Americans. It 
was now the dead of winter — the roads to-day were 
filled deep with mud, and to-morrow frozen hard, 
presenting a mass of rugged points to the soldiers' 
feet, through which or over which they were com- 
pelled to drag themselves, urged on by the fear of 
destruction. In the meantime Cornwallis, apprised 
of his error, began the pursuit in good earnest. But 
that gallant rear-guard of Williams kept between the 
two armies, slowly retreating, but still present — ever 
bending like a brow of wrath on the advancing 
enemy. The fate of the American army rested on its 
firmness and skill, and every officer in it seemed to 
feel the immense trust committed to his care. There 
were Lee's gallant legion, and Washington's heavy 
mounted, desperate horsemen, heroes every one. 
Vigilant, untiring, brave, they hovered with such a 
threatening aspect around the advancing columns, 
that they were compelled to march in close order to 
prevent an attack. The least negligence, the least 
oversight, and the blow would fall like lightning. 
Never did a rear-guard behave more gallantly. The 
men were allowed only three hours' sleep out of the 
twenty-four, and but one meal a day. By starting 



1 86 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

and pushing forward three hours before daylight, 
they were enabled to get a breakfast, and this was 
the last repast till next morning. Yet the brave 
fellows bore all without a murmur; and night after 
night, and day after day, presented the same deter- 
mined front to the enemy. Cornwallis, believing for 
awhile that he had the whole American force in 
front, rejoiced in its proximity, knowing that when 
it reached the river it must perish — then Virginia 
would lie open to his victorious arms, and the whole 
South be prostrate. But when he at length discov- 
ered his mistake, he strained forward with desperate 
efforts. 

In the meanwhile, that fleeing army presented a 
most heart-rending spectacle. Half clad, and many 
of them barefoot, with only one blanket for every 
four men, they toiled through the mire, or left their 
blood on the frozen ground — pressing on through 
the wintry storm and cold winds in the desperate 
struggle for life. At night when they snatched a 
few moments' repose, three soldiers would stretch 
themselves on the damp ground under one blanket, 
and the fourth keep watch: and happy were those 
who had even this scanty covering. Over hills, 
through forests, across streams, they held their 
anxious way, drenched by the rains, and chilled by 
the water through which they waded — and, unpro- 
tected and uncovered, were compelled to dry their 
clothes by the heat of their own bodies. Greene saw 
their distress with bitter grief, but it could not be 
helped — his cheering words and bright example were 
all he could give them. Now hurrying along his 



NATHANIEL GREENE 1 8/ 

exhausted columns, and now anxiously listening to 
hear the sound of the enemy's guns in the distance, 
he became a prey to the most wasting anxiety. From 
the time he had set out for the camp of Morgan, on 
the banks of the Catawba, he had not taken off his 
clothes ; while not an officer in the army was earlier 
in the saddle, or later out of it, than he. But undis- 
mayed — his strong soul fully resolved yet to conquer 
— he surveyed with a calm, stern eye, the dangers 
that thickened around him. Should the rear-guard 
fail, nothing but a miracle could save him — but it 
should not fail. Every deep-laid plan was thwarted, 
every surprise disconcerted, and every sudden move- 
ment to crush it eluded by its tireless, sleepless lead- 
ers. Often within musket-shot of the enemy's van- 
guard, the excited soldiers wished to return the fire ; 
but the stern orders to desist were obeyed, and the 
two tired armies toiled on. It was a fearful race for 
life, and right nobly was it run. 

At length the main army arrived within forty 
miles of the ferry-boats which were to place a deep 
river between them and the foe, and hope quickened 
every step. All night long they swept onward 
through the gloom, cheered by the thought that an- 
other day would place the object for which they 
struggled within their grasp. On that same cold 
and slippery night the noble rear-guard, slowly re- 
treating, suddenly saw, at twelve o'clock, watch-fires 
blazing in the distance. There then lay the army, 
for which they had struggled so nobly and suffered 
so much, overtaken at last, and sure to fall. In this 
fearful crisis, that gallant band paused and held a 



1 88 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

short consultation; and then resolved, with one ac- 
cord, to throw themselves in an overwhelming charge 
on the English army, and rolling it back on itself, by 
a sacrifice as great as it was glorious, secure a few 
more hours of safety to those they were protecting. 
This noble devotion was spared such a trial ; the fires 
were indeed those kindled by Greene's soldiers, but 
the tired columns had departed, and staggering from 
want of repose and food, were now stretching for- 
ward through the midnight, miles in advance. Corn- 
wallis, when he arrived at the smouldering camp- 
fires, believed himself almost up with Greene, and 
allowing his troops but a few moments' repose, 
marched all night long. In the morning his van was 
close upon the rear of that firm guard. Now came 
the last prodigious effort of the British commander 
— that rear-guard must fall, and with it, Greene, or 
all his labor and sacrifice would be in vain. On the 
banks of the Dan he had resolved to bury the Ameri- 
can army, and if human effort and human energy 
could effect it, it should be done. His steady col- 
umns closed more threateningly and rapidly on the 
guard, pushing it fiercely before them, and scorning 
all meaner success, pressed forward for the greater 
prize. Still Lee's intrepid legion, and Washington's 
fearless horsemen, hung black and wrathful around 
their path, striving desperately, but in vain, to check 
their rapid advance. On, on,, like racers approaching 
the goal, they swept over the open country, driving 
everything before them. 

But at noon a single horseman was seen coming, 
in a swift gallop, up the road along which Greene 



NATHANIEL GREENE 1 89 

had lately passed. Every eye watched him as he 
approached, and as he reined his panting steed up 
beside the officers of that exhausted, but still resolute 
band, and exclaimed, '' The army is over the river," 
a loud huzza rent the air. 

The main portion of the guard was now hastily 
despatched by the shortest route to the ferry, while 
Lee still hovered with his legion in front of Corn- 
wallis. As the former approached the river, they 
saw Greene, wan and haggard, standing on the 
shore, and gazing anxiously up the road by which 
they were expected to appear. His army was over, 
but he had remained behind to learn the fate of that 
noble guard, and if necessary, to fly to its relief. His 
eye lightened with exultation, as he saw the column 
rush forward to the river with shouts which were 
echoed in deafening accents from the opposite shore. 
It was now dark, and the troops were crowded with 
the utmost despatch into the boats, and hastened 
over. Scarcely were they safely landed, before the 
banks shook beneath the hurried heavy tramp of 
Lee's legion, as it came thundering on towards the 
ferry. The next moment the shores rung with the 
clatter of armor, as those bold riders dismounted, and 
leaped into the boats ready to receive them. Their 
horses were pushed into the water after them, and 
the black mass disappeared in the gloom. In a few 
moments, lights dancing along the farther shore told 
of their safe arrival, and a shout that made the 
welkin ring went up from the American camp. Lee 
was the last man that embarked ; he would not stir 
till his brave dragoons were all safe; and as the boat 



190 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

that bore him touched the shore, the tread of the 
British van echoed along the banks he had just left. 
The pursuing columns closed rapidly in towards the 
river, but the prey they thought within their grasp 
had escaped. Not a boat was left behind, and Corn- 
wallis saw with the keenest anguish, a deep broad 
river rolling between him and his foe. It was a bitter 
disappointment; his baggage had all been destroyed 
in vain, and this terrible march of two hundred and 
fifty miles made only to be retraced. 

But no pen can describe the joy and exultation that 
reigned in the American camp that night. The army 
received that gallant rear-guard with open arms, and 
hailed them as their deliverers. Forgot was all — 
their lacerated feet, and stiffened limbs, and empty 
stomachs, and scanty clothing — and even the wintry 
wind swept by unheeded in the joy of their escape. 
Together they sat down and recounted their toils, 
and asked, each of the other, his perils and hardships 
by the way. Laughter, and mirth, and songs, and 
all the reckless gayety of a camp from which re- 
straint is taken, made the shores echo. But it was 
with sterner pleasure Greene contemplated his es- 
cape; and as he looked on the majestic river, rolling 
its broad, deep current onward in the star-light, a 
mountain seemed to lift from his heart. He listened 
to the boisterous mirth about him, only to rejoice that 
so many brave fellows had been snatched from the 
enemy ; then turned to his tent to ponder on his posi- 
tion, and resolve what next to do. 

Thus ended this glorious retreat. It had been 
conducted for two hundred and fifty miles, through a 



NATHANIEL GREENE I9I 

country not furnishing a single defile in which a 
stand could be made. Three large rivers had been 
crossed — forests traversed — and through rain and 
mud, and over frost and ice, Greene had fled for 
twenty days, baffling every attempt of his more pow- 
erful antagonist to force him to a decisive action. 
For the skill in which it was planned, the resolution 
and energy with which it was carried through, and 
the distance traversed, it stands alone in the annals 
of our country, and will bear comparison with the 
most renowned feats of ancient or modern times. It 
covered Greene with more glory than a victory could 
have done, and stamped him at once the great 
commander. 

Cornwallis, far from his reinforcements, and in the 
heart of a hostile country, was now in a critical state. 
Greene no sooner saw his enemy halt, than he pre- 
pared to act on the offensive; and if the reinforce- 
ments promised by Virginia had been ready, he could 
easily have crushed him. His letters dated at this 
time, show how his heart was wrung at the obstacles 
thrown in his way. Bold and self-reliant, however, 
he did not give way to despondency ; but the moment 
Cornwallis began to retreat, threw out his light 
troops in every direction, in order to harass his move- 
ments ; and in five days himself crossed the Dan, and 
proceeded to a place between Troublesome Creek and 
Reedy Fork, where he established his camp. In the 
meantime, the British commander found himself sur- 
rounded by a cloud of republicans, who were inces- 
santly driving in his pickets, beating up his quarters, 
and keeping his camp in a constant trepidation. 



192 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

Tarleton, sent out with fire and sword, was com- 
pelled precipitately to retrace his steps, followed 
fiercely by Lee and Pickens, whose troops, in their 
ardor, marched all night, guiding their steps through 
the gloom by pine torches, and nearly succeeded in 
capturing him. 

Cornwallis, to whom a decisive battle had become 
a matter of life and death, immediately started in 
pursuit of Greene; hoping to fall on him before his 
army, now rapidly swelling by reinforcements, 
should become too formidable to assail. But 
manceuvre baffled manoeuvre, and the wily American 
turned and doubled on his adversary in such a way 
as completely foiled all his plans. He changed his 
camp every night, filling the Tories with alarm by 
his omnipresent army, while his light troops, imi- 
tating his example, were never to be found in the 
same place for two days together. Cornwallis la- 
bored like one in a dream, and knew not in what 
direction to expect the blow that seemed ever ready 
to fall. One day he would be told that his enemy 
was in front; but before he had advanced far, he 
would hear of him on his flanks, and again back to 
his old quarters. His light troops were worn out 
with constant exertions, his foraging parties cut off, 
and he was gradually wearing away; while his ad- 
versary, whose sleepless eye never for a moment lost 
sight of him, was gradually augmenting his forces. 
Never before had he found an enemy so diflicult to 
'deal with; and there seemed no end to the web in 
which it was sought to entangle him. At length, 
however, hearing that a large body of reinforce- 



NATHANIEL GREENE I93 

ments was coming up in a certain direction, he im- 
mediately resolved to throw himself between them 
and Greene, and thus force him to a battle or to 
abandon his allies. But the American commander 
understood his designs before they were put in exe- 
cution, and by a skilful manoeuvre saved the rein- 
forcements; while, to make the chagrin of Corn- 
wallis still more galling, they just slipped through 
his fingers. Other reinforcements now arriving 
from Virginia, Greene saw his army swell to five 
thousand five hundred men. This was larger, nu- 
merically, than the force opposed to him; but most 
of them were raw recruits. Still, he determined 
with these to risk a battle, for he knew that it was 
the largest army he could hope to raise, and that he 
could not long hold even this number together. 
For two months in the heart of winter he had kept 
manoeuvring, marching, and countermarching, re- 
treating and advancing, until the time had come for 
striking a blow or abandoning the attempt forever. 
He might not win the victory, but he would cripple 
his adversary, so that he would be compelled to quit 
the field. With these views and this determination, 
he gave his troops a little repose, and his raw recruits 
a little discipline, and then started for Guilford 
Court House. Cornwallis, after his last attempt to 
cut ofT the American reinforcements, had retired, so - 
that Greene's march was unobstructed. 

BATTLE OF GUILFORD 

On the 14th of March he halted his army at Guil- 
ford, where he had formerly examined the ground, 

A. B., VOL. III. — 13 



194 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

with the intention of making it, some day, a battle- 
field. The solitary building, called the court-house, 
stood on a hill in the centre of a small clearing. It 
was a lonely spot, not another house was in sight; 
and a limitless forest stretched away on every side, 
broken only here and there by a patch of cultivated 
ground, which some adventurous settler had made. 
In front of the building was a belt of forest, and be- 
yond it and parallel to it a long narrow cornfield. 
Along the farther edge of the field ran a rivulet. 
The road passed by the court-house through the belt 
of forest, and across the centre of the cornfield, and 
finally lost itself in the woods beyond, from which 
the enemy were to emerge. On the morning of the 
15th of March, 1781, the drums beat their reveille 
early, and Greene drew up his men in three lines on 
this secluded spot, which, before night, was to be 
strewed with the dead. Along the edge of the piece 
of wood, behind a fence, and facing the cornfield, 
he placed the North Carolina militia. In the wood, 
about fifty rods in the rear, he stationed the Virginia 
militia, under Stevens and Lawson ; both these lines 
extended across the road. Four hundred yards be- 
hind these, on the hill around the court-house, were 
ranged the brave continentals, commanded by 
Greene in person. Two roads leading away from 
the court-house, in the rear, furnished a secure re- 
treat. Thus strongly posted, with Lee's legion and 
some infantry covering the left flank, and Washing- 
ton's heavy mounted dragoons the right, he waited 
the approach of the enemy. 

It was a clear bright day as ever blessed the 



NATHANIEL GREENE I95 

earth ; the bracing air just stirred the tree-tops over 
the soldiers' heads, and all was beautiful and spring- 
like. Early in the forenoon scouts returned with 
the news that the British were advancing, and that 
gallant army stood to arms, and looked long and 
eagerly down the road along which they were to 
come. Noon came, and still the forest was silent 
and slumberous. But at length, about one o'clock, 
strains of martial music were heard in the distance, 
struggling up from the tree-tops, and soon the sharp 
rattle of the drum, and the shrill tones of the fife and 
horn broke with startling distinctness on the ear, and 
then the head of the column began slowly to emerge 
into view. Two pieces of artillery under Singleton 
had been advanced along the road, and now opened 
on the approaching mass. Cornwallis immediately 
brought forward his artillery, and a fierce cannonade 
commenced. Under cover of the smoke of his guns, 
he pushed his columns across the brook into the corn- 
field, where, deploying rapidly to the right and left, 
they formed in order of battle. Relying on the dis- 
cipline of his troops, he formed them into a single 
line, without any reserve, resolved, by one terrible 
onset, to sweep the field. The Carolina militia 
looked in terror over the cornfield before them, red 
with the scarlet uniforms. The steady tread of the 
advancing battalions, the long lines of light made by 
the glittering bayonets over their heads, the banners 
floating in the breeze, and the loud strains of mar- 
tial music, drowned ever and anon by the roar of 
cannon, conspired to render it a scene that might awe 
even more veteran hearts. 



196 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

On, on they came, with the terrible front of battle, 
unchecked by the distant random shots of some of 
the miHtia, until they approached within a few rods, 
when they halted, and, at the word of command, 
poured in a simultaneous volley — then throwing 
their bayonets forward, rushed, with loud shouts, 
to the charge. The poor militia, frightened half out 
of their senses by this sudden and awful onset, for- 
got, many of them, to fire at all, and dropping their 
guns, knapsacks, canteens and everything, took 
to their heels like a flock of sheep. Greene had not 
calculated on their firing more than four or five 
rounds; but this was dastardly. Their officers 
strove bravely to rally them, seizing those nearest 
with their hands, entreating and threatening by 
turns, while Lee spurred among them with his drawn 
sabre, swearing he would ride them down with his 
terrible legion if they did not halt. It was all in 
vain, utter terror had seized them ; and they swarmed 
in affright through the woods, back to the second 
line. The Virginians, untouched by the panic, 
taunted them as they fled through, and railed on 
them as cowards and poltroons ; then bravely turned 
to meet the shock. Stevens had taken care his 
militia should not serve him as they did at Camden, 
and posted forty riflemen in the rear, with orders to 
shoot down the first man who should attempt to run. 

The British, elated by their first success, sent up 
a loud huzza, and pressed furiously forward upon 
the second line. In a moment the woods were red 
with the scarlet uniforms as they swept, in one broad 
wave, up to the Virginians; but a deadly volley re- 



NATHANIEL GREENE "^ 1 97 

ceiyed them, and huge gaps opened in their files. 
Unable to stand this galling fire, they sprang for- 
ward with the bayonet, and with levelled pieces, and 
steady front, moved against the undisciplined militia 
— but not a rank broke, not a battalion fled. Op- 
posing steel to steel, and in the intervals pouring in 
their rapid volleys, they held, for a long time, the 
whole British army in check. At length, however, 
forced back by superior numbers, the right wing, 
still hanging together, swung slowly round, on the 
centre as a pivot, until it reached the road, then broke 
and fled. The left wing, in the woods, on the oppo- 
site side of the road, still maintained the combat. 
Greene, now seeing that the battle was to be thrown 
upon him — as that part of the British army opposed 
to the routed right wing, following up their victory, 
emerged into view — rode along the lines, telling the 
soldiers that all now rested on them. '' Be firm and 
steady," said he, " and give the finishing blow." 
On came the unbroken British line, and drew up in 
order on the open ground in front of those stern 
continentals. The next moment, with a loud shout 
and terrible impetuosity, they rushed to the charge. 
Cool and steady, those brave regulars watched their 
approach, undismayed by their shouts and fierce as- 
pect, until within sure striking distance, and then 
poured a destructive volley in their very bosoms. 
Stunned by the terrific discharge, the solid formations 
recoiled a moment, and before they could recover the 
Americans were upon them with the bayonet. 
Shouting like madmen, they swept through the cov- 
ering smoke and random discharges like a resistless 



198 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

tide. Nothing could check the fury of their onset; 
and through and through the broken ranks they 
went, with the strength of a falhng mountain. Oh ! 
that Washington's cavah-y or Lee's legion had then 
been ready to burst on the shattered line, or even 
another regiment to follow up the victory, and the 
red field would have been won. Yet still, onward 
swept that victorious regiment of Marylanders, 
chasing the fugitives before them. Suddenly turn- 
ing upon the first battalion of the guards, before 
whom their companions had fled in terror, they fell 
on it with such fury that they shivered it in pieces 
with one fell blow; and then, without taking time 
to breathe, rushed on the others. The conflict here 
became dreadful. That brave regiment, disdaining 
to fly, bore up against the overwhelming numbers 
that increased as it advanced, and was still maintain- 
ing its ground, when Washington, seeing how hard 
beset it was, ordered the bugles to sound, and the 
next moment the ground shook under the steady gal- 
lop of his squadron, as with shaking sabres and loud 
shouts they burst on the enemy. In vain did those 
veterans close up their ranks to meet the shock, and 
surround themselves with a girdle of steel — in vain 
did their officers shout : " Be steady and firm ; " over 
and through everything went the fierce riders, 
trampling them down like grass. Stuart, who led 
them on, strove manfully to rally them to the charge, 
and as he moved about in the tumult, came upon 
Captain Smith of those glorious Marylanders, and 
sprang fiercely upon him. The latter, parrying the 
Englishman's small-sword with his left hand, brought 



NATHANIEL GREENE 1 99 

down his heavy sabre on his head with such force 
that he cleaved him to the spine. The next moment, 
stunned by a musket-ball, though not killed, he fell 
on his antagonist. Scarcely had he touched the 
body, before the soldier who had fired the shot also 
fell across him. Nothing could now stay the excited 
Americans ; and Washington's cavalry plunged amid 
the disordered guards, striking them down with their 
heavy sabres at every step. The battle seemed won ; 
and Cornwallis, who saw the rout of his guards, 
spurred towards them. Washington, beholding 
him, pointed forward with his sword, and shouted 
to his men to follow. Pressing close after him, they 
dashed onward, and the great prize was almost 
within their grasp, when Washington's cap falling 
from his head, he dismounted to pick it up. At the 
same moment the officer at the head of the column, 
shot through the body, reeled in his saddle; while 
his horse, now unmanageable, turned and carried 
him off the field. The squadron, seeing one leader 
down, and the other riding away, thought a retreat 
had been sounded, and wheeled after the latter. In 
a moment, however, Washington came galloping up, 
and with a loud voice arrested their retreat, and 
again led them to the charge. But Cornwallis had 
retired, and so Washington fell again upon the 
guards, breaking to pieces every formation, and rid- 
ing down every incipient square. The British com- 
mander saw at a glance that this rout of his guards 
must be arrested, or the whole army ruined; and 
hastening to his artillery, that crowned a slight emi- 
nence, he ordered it to open on the driving mass. 



200 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

'' Stop'' said one of the leaders of that broken band, 
who had been borne back dreadfully wounded from 
the fight, " you will destroy your own men." " We 
must do it/' replied Cornwallis, '' to save ourselves 
from destruction:' The flying guards were now 
mingled up with their pursuers so completely, that 
every shot aimed at the latter would strike them also. 
But stern necessity required the sacrifice, and the 
next moment the artillery opened like a clap of thun- 
der, and the heavy shot went tearing through the 
bleeding guards with frightful effect. The wounded 
oflicer turned away sick from the murderous spec- 
tacle, but Cornwallis gazed sternly on the slaughter, 
and still kept up that heavy fire, till half the battalion 
was stretched on the field. This checked the pur- 
suers, who were compelled to retreat, but not the 
battle. Volleys of musketry, interrupted by explo- 
sions of artillery, kept the atmosphere in an uproar ; 
while charging cavalry, and shouting infantry — 
firm-set columns, and broken ranks — horses gallop- 
ing riderless over the plain, and heaps of dead, com- 
bined to make that lonely spot, and that bright after- 
noon, a scene and time of thrilling interest and 
terror. 

No sooner had Cornwallis cleared the field with 
his artillery than the routed troops began to rally — 
some behind ravines, and some in the woods ; while 
those regiments yet unbroken were moved forward. 
In the woods, on the left, Lee and Campbell still 
maintained the fight, and had done so from the out- 
set, sternly refusing to yield one inch of ground. 
They and their foes were both out of sight, but the 



NATHANIEL GREENE 201 

incessant and fierce disdharges that rung through 
the forest, and the wounded officers and men borne 
constantly back, told how close and dreadful was the 
struggle. But no news came from Lee. That gal- 
lant chieftain was straining every nerve to hold his 
position, ignorant of what had befallen the other 
portions of the army. Greene, in the meantime, 
could not advance with his few unbroken regiments 
on the whole British force, protected as it was by 
cannon, without risking all on one hazardous throw. 
But this was the game for Cornwallis to play not for 
him ; it was victory or ruin with the former, and at 
length, by incredible efforts, he succeeded in forming 
his line of battle anew, and again steadily advanced. 
Discipline had restored to him all his unwounded 
men; while Greene surveyed, with an anxious eye, 
the few regiments on which alone he could rely. 
Though burning to renew the conflict, he dared not 
trust again his militia, who had been broken at the 
outset, and so he ordered a retreat While it could be 
safely made. Silence had now fallen on the field, 
and all was still, save the beating to arms and the 
incessant volleys from the woods on the left, from 
whence no tidings reached Greene. 

The moment the former began his retreat, Corn- 
wallis sent forward two regiments to break the rear- 
guard; but the brave Virginians who composed it 
received them with such a scourging fire, and con- 
stantly presented such a firm front, that they soon 
gave it up, and the army retired three miles and 
halted. 

The bright Spring sun had now gone down in a 



202 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

mass of clouds, and the wind began to moan through 
the forest, foretelHng a storm. After a few hours' 
repose, the weary army, in a cold and driving rain, 
again took up its line of march for its old encamp- 
ment at Reedy Fork. All night long the bleeding 
patriots continued to press forward, with the storm 
beating upon them; and wet and exhausted, and 
many of them barefoot, reached, at daybreak, their 
camp. One cannot thirik of those brave continen- 
tals, and Virginia troops, measuring the heavy miles 
back from the battle which they had struggled so 
nobly to win, without the most painful feelings. 
Deserted by their own friends, they had, neverthe- 
less, resolutely and gallantly met the onset of the 
whole British army; — then, stung with disappoint- 
ment, and venting their rage on the cowardly Caro- 
linians, closed their toilsome day by a heavy night- 
march. Many a noble heart lay cold and still on the 
field where they had struggled — here you could see 
the track of Washing'ton's cavalry by the ghastly 
Scibre-strokes that disfigured the dead ; and there by 
the heaps of the slain, where the gallant Maryland 
regiment, after it had broken to pieces one, a third 
larger than its own, met the guards in full career. 
Around the court-house the ground was red with 
blood, and American and Briton lay almost in each 
other's embrace. But amid the piles of the slain 
there were two scarlet uniforms to one of the conti- 
nentals. Our unerring marksmen had made terrible 
havoc, and one-quarter* of Cornwallis's army had 
fallen on the field he had won. No wonder Fox said 
* Six hundred killed and wounded. 



NATHANIEL GREENE 203 

on the floor of the House of Commons, when the 
victory was announced : " Another such victory will 
ruin the British armyf' 

The troops under Greene, so far from being dis- 
pirited, were full of confidence and courage, and de- 
manded eagerly to be led immediately against the 
enemy. Those who had fought bravely panted to 
re-measure their strength with the foe; while the 
regiments which had made such a shameful flight, 
stung by the reproaches of their comrades, earnestly 
asked for an opportunity to wipe out the disgrace. 
How different was the state of Cornwallis. He had 
taken nothing but three pieces of artillery, which 
could not be brought off except by hand, as the 
horses had been shot down, and so left behind ; while 
encumbered with the wounded, and diminished in his 
strength, he lost all power to maintain his ground. 
No sooner, therefore, had he collected his wounded, 
than he began a precipitate retreat. His victory had 
been so dearly bought, that nothing but a rapid flight 
could save him. 

This battle, so admirably planned, would have 
finished at once the career of the British commander, 
had all of the American troops behaved even with 
ordinary bravery. If the first line had poured in but 
one well-directed volley, the English army would 
have been shaken, and handed over to the second line 
disordered, or at least, discouraged, instead of fresh 
and excited, as it was ; and by the time it reached the 
court-house, the fate of the day would have been 
settled. Or, had the second regiment of the Mary- 
landers showed but half the firmness their comrades 



204 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

of the first did, the victory would have been com- 
plete. Greene reckoned, and not without cause, on 
the good conduct of this regiment; but instead of 
meeting the grenadiers of the guards with courage, 
they turned and fled at the first fire, leaving all the 
work to their companions, who had just broken one 
regiment into fragments. It was expected that the 
Carolina militia, unaccustomed to battle, would make 
but a feeble resistance ; but the failure of this body 
was a grievous disappointment, and left but a small 
band on which the American commander could rely. 
When Greene beheld it, he hastened forward, and in 
his eagerness came near being taken prisoner; for, 
in approaching the spot where the conflict was rag- 
ing, he suddenly found himself upon the enemy, and 
screened from them only by a few saplings. His 
danger was imminent; but with that presence of 
mind which never deserted him, he walked away 
quietly so as not to attract attention and provoke pur- 
suit. His whole plan exhibited the greatest genius 
and daring combined; and as it was, he gained all 
that a mere victory would have given him. An 
utter rout would have finished the campaign ; but he 
could scarcely hope for this with the troops under 
him. 

Still, undaunted by his reverse, he determined 
after giving his men a short repose to hazard another 
battle. In the meantime, he heard of the flight of 
his enemy, and was about to start in rapid pursuit, 
when, to his dismay, he found that his ammunition 
was nearly exhausted. This saved the victor from a 
complete overthrow ;and those brave ofiicerswho had 



NATHANIEL GREENE 205 

struggled so nobly, were compelled to remain inac- 
tive. Washington, and Lee, and Campbell, and 
Smith, and Howard, and Stevens, and Huger, and 
last and noblest, Gunby, and many others, had won 
for themselves an immortal name, but they were im- 
patient for another trial. 

As soon as he was able to make a demonstration, 
Greene sent forward Lee to hang on the rear of the 
crippled enemy, and immediately followed with his 
whole army. Nothing could shake the iron will of 
this man, or for a moment relax his energy. To- 
day retreating, to-morrow advancing — now pouring 
his columns to the charge, and now conducting them 
bleeding, through the storm and darkness, to a place 
of safety; and again, with scarcely a day's repose, 
breaking into a furious offensive — he exhibits all the 
qualities of a headlong warrior, and of a careful, 
great commander. 

The British fled towards Wilmington, and Greene 
thundered in their rear. The former dared not haz- 
ard a battle, and pressed forward towards Deep 
River, and halting at Ramsey's Mills, threw a bridge 
across the stream, and waited the approach of the 
Americans. Greene, who had been detained a day, 
in order to bring up his ammunition, urged his 
weary troops along the muddy roads, and at length 
approached the river. But Cornwallis had changed 
his mind, and without waiting to receive the attack, 
hurried his army across the bridge, and attempted 
to destroy it. But before he could effect his object^ 
Lee burst on him with his legion, and he was com- 
pelled to seek safety in precipitate flight, leaving 



206 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

some of his dead on the banks, and the beef his men 
had killed hanging in the stalls. But here the 
troops, overcome by their rapid marches and long 
toils, and seeing the enemy again beyond their reach, 
refused to proceed any farther. No entreaties or 
remonstrance could prevail on them to stir; for the 
term of enlistment of many of them had expired, and 
they were far from their homes. Thus fell a second 
blow on the heart of this indomitable chieftain, and 
he was compelled to see his adversary withdraw in 
security. Still, could one have looked upon that 
army, he would scarcely blame them. Barefoot, 
half-clad, and without provisions, they had marched, 
fought, and retreated, and suffered, and now needed 
repose. Their iron leader could not expect from 
them what he himself would undertake, and he was 
forced to halt. With the most strenuous exertions, 
he could not get a supply of provisions; and the 
brave fellows, gnawed by the pangs of hunger, 
seized on the most disgusting food with avidity, but 
not a murmur escaped their lips. They loved their 
chieftain with devotion, for he asked nothing from 
them he did not himself cheerfully encounter; and 
many a night they had seen him drenched and worn, 
riding in their midst, encouraging their spirits, and 
rousing their patriotism. And now, as their term 
of service expired, he called them out, and, after 
thanking them for their bravery and cheerful co- 
operation, dismissed them to their homes. With 
loud cheers they hailed him, as he rode along their 
lines, and then commenced their weary journey to 
their distant fire-sides. 



NATHANIEL GREENE 20/ 

With his army reduced to one-third of its size, no 
other course seemed left open to him but to take 
some central position, and watch the enemy. Corn- 
wallis was beyond his reach if he attempted a pur- 
suit; besides, he was too weak to risk a battle with 
him. He had accomplished all that could be done 
with an inferior force — out-manoeuvred and 
thwarted his enemy till he could raise reinforce- 
ments — then fallen on him with terrible slaughter, 
and pursued him as long as an efficient army was 
left under his command, and now it was time to 
pause and reflect. What could be done in his crip- 
pled condition and destitute state? The gates of 
success, and even action, seemed shut upon him, but 
his genius struck out a plan as original as it was 
bold. With his little band he resolved to carry the 
war into South Carolina, and fall on the line of the 
enemy's posts established between Ninety-Six and 
Charleston. These were all well garrisoned and 
fortified; but if they could be taken, the base of 
Cornwallis's operations would be destroyed. Still 
it was a hazardous experiment ; for if the latter, with 
his superior army, should follow him up, he would 
be crushed between it and the garrisons ; but relying 
on his own resources and the confusion into which 
his sudden movements would throw his adversary, 
he set out on his desperate undertaking. Only a 
week's repose was given to the soldiers, and then a 
series of toils entered upon, to which all they had be- 
fore suffered was but a commencement. He had 
calculated all beforehand, and said : " I knozv the 
troops will be exposed to every hardship. But, as I 



208 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

share it zvith them, I hope they zvill bear up under 
it zvith that inagnaniinity zvhich has already sup- 
ported them, ami for zvhich they deserve everything 
of their country/' Secretly and carefully the army 
took up its line of march, and in twelve days reached 
Camden, where Lord Rawdon lay, strongly fortified. 

BATTLE OF HOBKIRK's HILL 

Greene took up his position on Hobkirk's Hill, 
about two miles north of the town, and remained 
there three days ; when, hearing that a British rein- 
forcement was coming up, he hastened to cut it off. 
Finding, after a fatiguing march, that the report 
was unfounded, he retraced his steps, and, on the 
25th of April, again drew up his little army, scarce 
a thousand strong, in order of battle on Hobkirk's 
Hill. The troops, who had now been twenty-four 
hours without food, were hastily supplied, and sat 
scattered around in every direction, cooking it, when 
the fire from the vedettes in the distance announced 
the approach of the enemy. Greene was at the time 
in his tent, drinking a cup of coffee. In a moment 
he was in the saddle, his eye gleaming in exultation 
and confidence. The drums beat to arms — the hun- 
gry soldiers came rushing back to their posts — the 
stern order passed along the lines, and in a few min- 
utes they stood prepared for the onset. The road 
ran directly through the American encampment, on 
each side of which extended the army in a single 
line, one wing resting on a swamp, the other lost in 
the woods. The artillery occupied the road, while 



NATHANIEL GREENE 209 

two hundred and fifty militia, and Washington's 
cavalry, were stationed in the rear, as a reserve. 
For awhile all was silent around that little army 
cresting the hill; and they stood and listened anx- 
iously to the firing in the forest, as the picket 
guards, retreating inch by inch, kept up a sharp fire 
on the advancing columns. Nothing could be seen 
except the smoke as it curled up over the tree-tops, 
revealing the struggle below, and all was breathless 
suspense, until at length the enemy emerged into the 
open ground, right in front of the height. The 
moment Greene's eye fell upon them, he saw that the 
narrowness of their front gave him a rare opportu- 
nity for a flank movement, and he resolved to over- 
throw them by one fell swoop. '' Let Campbell and 
Ford turn their Hanks, the cavalry take them in the 
rear, and the centre charge zvith trailed bayonets/' 
fell, in a single breath, from his lips ; and swinging 
down round the enemy, the whole army precipitated 
itself forward. The artillery opened, followed by 
the rapid volleys of the infantry ; and, in a moment, 
the field was in a blaze. Washington went gallop- 
ing by a circuitous route to the rear ; while that reso- 
lute line closed like the hand of fate around the 
British column. Thrown into confusion by the 
searching fire, and rolling back before the steadily 
advancing bayonets, the enemy began to break on all 
sides, and one more bold push and the day would 
be won. Greene, at the head of a single regiment, 
foug'ht like the meanest soldier, and led the intrepid 
band steadily through the fire that wasted it. But 
in this critical moment, the veteran regiment of 

A. B., VOL. III. — 14 



2IO AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

Gunby, which had wrought such prodigies at Guil- 
ford, gave way; and Rawdon, rallying at the sight, 
rapidly extended his lines — pushing back the wings 
of the Americans, until, at length, the two armies 
stood front to front. Greene, broken-hearted at the 
flight of his favorite regiment, on which he had 
placed his hopes, galloped up to it, and sending his 
stern commands through the ranks, again rallied 
them ; but it was too late. Spurring his steed up the 
hill, he cast his eye on the conflict beneath, and lo ! 
all was lost. His centre was pierced, the artillery 
pushed back, and the enemy, with loud shouts, were 
rolling in one broad wave up the hill. His fond 
hopes were all blasted ; and the irretrievable rout of 
his army burst like a thunder-clap upon him. In- 
stantly ordering a retreat, he covered it with a sin- 
gle regiment; and spurring amid the bullets which 
rained in an incessant shower about him, succeeded 
in restoring partial order. In the meantime his ar- 
tillery was almost within the enemy's grasp. The 
men had left the guns, and had just turned to flee, 
when Greene burst in a fierce gallop among them, 
and leaping from his horse, seized the drag- 
ropes himself. This heroic example shamed the 
men into courage, and they flew again to their places. 
At this critical moment Smith came up with forty- 
five of the camp-guards to their defence. On this 
little band, drawn up behind the guns, the British 
charged with both infantry and cavalry, and in a few 
minutes the Americans, though they fought with in- 
credible fury, were reduced to fourteen ; the next mo- 
ment, having fired simultaneously, the cavalry was 



NATHANIEL GREENE 211 

Upon them while in the act of loading, and every 
man of them fell dead in his footsteps. The artil- 
lery seemed now irretrievably lost;but before the vic- 
tors could secure their prize, Washington burst upon 
them witii his fierce riders, trampling them under 
foot, and scattering them like leaves from his path. 
In the outset of the battle he had reached, as he was 
ordered, the rear of the army, where he came upon 
a motley group of surgeons and attendants, and so 
forth, which he should have rode down without hesi- 
tation, and charged home upon the main body of the 
enemy. This, however, his generous heart forbade 
him to do, and while he was securing the prisoners 
the battle was lost. Had he rode steadily forward, 
he might have compensated for the failure of Gunby. 
But the fortunate moment had passed, and finding 
that Greene had been beaten back, he made good his 
retreat, and arrived just in time to save the artillery. 
Each man had his prisoner behind him, and thus, 
riding double, they came upon the enemy — but it 
was the wor'k of only a moment for those bold 
dragoons to tumble each of those prisoners off, 
and then, with a shout, rush to the charge. Having 
rescued the artillery, Washington wheeled and fell 
like a loosened cliff on the shouting and victorious 
army, rolling it back on itself in utter amazement. 
This checked the pursuit, and Greene withdrew with- 
out further attack. 

The grand cause of the failure was the unexpected 
retreat of Gunby's regiment ; though the brave fel- 
lows who composed it were not to blame. As they 
were advancing, the first line, instead of charging 



2 12 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

bayonet, began to fire — this being arrested, they 
marched on down the hill, when the captain com- 
manding the right fell dead. This caused a little 
confusion, though not a company retreated, or even 
halted. Gunby, seeing there was some little dis- 
order, and fearing it might increase, ordered the line 
to halt until the second line could close in at quick- 
step. He shouted this command at the top of his 
voice ; but amid the noise of battle, it was not under- 
stood ; and the soldiers, mistaking it for an order to 
retreat, turned and fled. Gunby was court-mar- 
tialled for his conduct, and severely reprimanded. It 
was clear that he ought not to have halted his men, 
but kept them moving till the second line advanced 
to their aid. This reversing orders and confusing 
the soldiers in the very moment of attack, is the most 
ruinous thing that can be done. 

Greene retreated only a few miles after the battle, 
hoping that Rawdon would be encouraged to a sec- 
ond attack ; but he wisely forbore, and shut himself 
up in Camden. 

Never was the former in a more critical situation 
than at this moment. The blow he had planned so 
secretly, and planted so skilfully, had not only failed, 
but waked up the enemy in every quarter to his de- 
signs. Cornwallis, when he heard of it, knew that 
his line of posts was threatened, and revolved long 
and anxiously his course. First he determined to 
push on after his daring and adventurous adversary, 
and overwhelm him ; but finally turned his steps to 
Virginia, to close his career at Yorktown. In the 
meantime, reinforcements were hurrying up to Raw- 



NATHANIEL GREENE 213 

don from Georgetown. On these Marion and Lee 
hung with threatening aspect, but they finally suc- 
ceeded in reaching Camden. With his little desti- 
tute army about him, Greene now felt the full peril 
of his position, and, for the first time during the 
campaign, his strong heart sunk in despondency. 
Rawdon was within striking distance of him, with a 
large force, while word was brought that Cornwallis 
was marching rapidly against him. His ammuni- 
tion was exhausted, his recruits destitute of arms, 
and Congress seemed to have abandoned him to his 
fate. Deserted, impoverished, almost surrounded — 
with only a small half-naked band around him, he 
for a moment bent under this accumulation of 
troubles, and the tide of despondency his iron will 
had so long kept 'back, flowed in one resistless flood 
over his manly heart. He drank deep of the cup 
of bitterness, and a heavy cloud rested on his brow 
as he sought in vain to pierce the gloom that sur- 
rounded him. It was, however, but a moment, and 
his strong nature roused itself to grapple with the 
difficulties that beset him. '' We zvill dispute every 
inch of ground," said he, " though Lord Rawdon, I 
knozv, zvill push me hack to the mountains." 

The news of Cornwallis's march to Virginia, 
saved him this alternative, and allowed him to carry 
out his original plan. Rawdon, seeing that despatch 
alone could save his garrisons south, immediately 
broke up his encampment at Camden; and having 
destroyed his stores and fortifications, and with the 
blazing town, which he had fired, to light his path, 
began his rapid march towards Fort Motte. 



214 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

Thither, als'o, Greene hastened, to save Marlon and 
Lee, Who were pressing the siege. Both command- 
ers, one with alarm and the other with joy, heard, 
just before they reached it, that it had surrendered 
to our arms. This fort occupied a sort of middle 
position, between Ninety-Six on the extreme north- 
west and Charleston on the extreme southeast ; hence 
its fall broke the chain of posts completely. 

The field was now open again to Greene, and send- 
ing forward Lee against Fort Granby, he followed 
in rapid marches with the main army. On ap- 
proaching the place, he found it already in the hands 
of Lee. His face brightened up at the news — the 
morning was dawning, and a few more efforts, and 
lo ! the sun of prosperity would rise. Hurrying on 
Lee, to unite with Pic'kens, now before Augusta, he 
turned his steps towards Ninety-Six, the last and 
strongest fortress. The garrison had been ordered 
long before to withdraw, but the messenger who 
bore the despatch was captured, and Cruger, who 
commanded, was left to defend himself as he could. 

STORMING OF NINETY-SIX. 

On the 22d of May, after a fatiguing march, 
Greene found himself before the fort, and immediate- 
ly began his approaches. With Kosciusko and Pen- 
dleton, he made the entire circuit of the fortifications, 
going so near that he was fired upon by the sentinels. 
First came a heavy redoubt surrounded with a ditch 
and frieze, and an abatis. A few rods distant, was 
a stockade fort, supported by two strong block- 



NATHANIEL GREENE 215 

houses — the whole defended by a well-supplied garri- 
son. On the 23d, Greene broke ground, and pushed 
his operations on with the utmost vigor — day and 
night, without a moment's intermission, the spade 
and pick-axe were heard in the trenches. Sally 
after sally was made by the enemy, and a fierce fire 
kept up, but still the resolute workmen toiled on. 
Lee having failed before Augusta, now came up with 
his legion, and invested the stockade fort, and soon 
cut off the supply of water — the guns had been si- 
lenced before. Day after day the work went on, and 
closer and closer drew the toils around the garrison. 
All that bravery and resolution could do, had been 
done, and for eighteen days they had made desperate 
efforts to arrest the progress of the besiegers. But 
now the scene was drawing to a close, and in a few 
days more the fortress must fall. 

At this critical juncture, news arrived of the rapid 
approach of Rawdon by forced marches, to relieve 
the garrison. Greene strained every nerve to bring 
up Marion, and Sumpter, and Pickens, that he might 
meet his enemy once more in the open field. '' Let 
us have a field day," said he, " and I doubt not it 
will be a glorious one." Vain wish ! the British com- 
mander knew that everything depended on celerity, 
and he soon was upon him with double the number 
of his army. Nothing now remained but to retreat; 
but this the soldiers could not bear to think of after 
all their toil, and begged so earnestly to be led to the 
assault, that Greene at length consented. He would 
not cripple his whole army by a general storm, and 
so he directed some picked regiments to make the 



2l6 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

attempt first on the stockade fort. On the 17th of 
June, the regiments destined to the assault stood to 
their arms — the forlorn-hopes took their stations; 
while fascines, with which to fill up the ditch, and 
hookmen, with long iron hooks, to pull down the 
sand-bags that lined the ramparts, completed the 
stern preparation. The riflemen were in their tow- 
ers, and the artillery was trained on the fort. At 
eleven o'clock the first cannon was fired, and the men 
sprung into the trenches; then the whole opened at 
once, the signal for the assault, and amid the roar of 
artillery, and peals of musketry, the brave fellows, 
with one fierce shout, plunged into the ditch, and 
began to climb the walls. In a moment a dreadful 
volley swept them down, yet they still pressed on 
jover their dead companions, and mounted the ram- 
parts against the line of bayonets that bristled above 
them. The fort was gallantly won, but the redoubt 
continued to hold out, and poured an incessant, gall- 
ing fire on the Americans who crowded the ditch. 
But not a man yielded, and the assault was pressed 
with desperate impetuosity. But the ditch was too 
deep, and the parapets too high, and all efforts to 
scale them were unavailing. For a whole hour had 
this deadly conflict continued, before Greene ordered 
the troops to be withdrawn. He had won the stock- 
ade fort, and might yet win all ; but he was afraid 
to risk his entire army, when Lord Rawdon was al- 
most upon him. The assault had been nobly made, 
and the soldiers behaved with the courage of veteran 
troops, and it was with despondency and gloom they 
heard the orders to retreat. They had been nearly a 



NATHANIEL GREENE 217 

month laboring to secure the prize, and now they 
were compelled to abandon it — with heavy hearts 
they beheld the ramparts, still red with the blood of 
their comrades, fade away in the distance. 

Rawdon came rapidly up, and, passing the fort, 
pressed hard after Greene; but after marching 
twenty-two miles, his overtasked troops gave out, 
and he returned. Ordering Ninety-Six to be evacu- 
ated, he began his retreat, harassed at every step by 
Lee, who kept dealing blow after blow, and yet re- 
ceiving none in return. In the track of the retreat- 
ing army were crowds of men, women and children, 
fleeing from the vengeance of the Whigs, whom they 
had insulted, and robbed, and slain without mercy. 
The day of retribution had come; and the panic- 
struck wretches fled to Charleston, to escape the ven- 
geance due to their crimes. 

Greene no sooner saw his enemy retreat, than he 
turned, with his usual daring, in pursuit. Following 
rapidly on his flying traces, he again and again, by 
his deep-laid plans and unwearied exertions, almost 
captured a part of the army. Daunted by no danger, 
overcome by no toil, never beguiled into repose, he 
seemed omnipresent to his foe. At length, after hav- 
ing forced him back at every point — Orangeburg 
alone remaining occupied between him and the coast 
— he resolved to rest his troops. The heat of sum- 
mer had set in, and the suffering and exposure of his 
men demanded some relief. Choosing out a salu- 
brious position on the high hills of Santee, he went 
into summer-quarters, and all the freedom and wild 
mirth of a camp life commenced. But to Greene 



2l8 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

there was no repose ; and he immediately set about a 
re-organization of the army. Congress, however, 
could do nothing, and no money was sent him with 
which to pay off the soldiers. Still, partial success 
crowned his efforts — resulting from the re-establish- 
ment of the civil power, which the presence of the 
enemy had abolished. 

As soon as he had rested his troops, he was again 
in motion, saying, " We will seek the enemy wher- 
ever we can find them, unless they take refuge with- 
in the gates of Charleston." On the 22d of August 
he broke up his encampment, and began his march, 
looking anxiously for reinforcements, without which 
he would be powerless. Said he, in writing to Lee : 
*' We must have victory or ruin; nor zvill I spare any- 
thing to obtain it." Pushing on under the broiling 
August sun, he ordered in Pickens and Marion with 
the troops under their command, and approached 
Orangeburg. At length he heard that the enemy 
had halted at Eutaw Springs, and immediately 
moved forward to within seven miles, and halted. 
Here Marion joined him ; and that night, the 7th of 
September, the toil-worn chieftain wrapped himself 
in his cloak, and slept on the ground, in the midst of 
his soldiers, with the root of a tree for his pillow. 

BATTLE OF EUTAW SPRINGS 

With the first dawn tne drums beat to arms; but 
Greene was already on horseback, and soon had his 
troops under way. The eastern sky was red and 
glowing with the near approach of the up-rising sun, 



NATHANIEL GREENE 219 

and the dew-drops lay fresh and sparkling on the 
foliage, as they passed through the forest. In two 
columns — the militia under the gallant Marion and 
Pickens, in front, and the brave continentals in the 
rear, while Lee's fierce legion led the van, they moved 
silently on. But, with the exception of the officers, 
.there were few bright uniforms to be seen. Whole 
ranks were barefoot and in rags, and hundreds were 
stark naked, with nothing but tufts of moss on their 
shoulders and hips, to keep their muskets and cart- 
ridge-boxes from chafing their skins. It was a sight 
to move the heart, to see those naked freemen press- 
ing on to battle, under the flag of liberty. Greene 
cast his anxious eye along the dark files, as they 
swept noiselessly onward, feeling that a few hours 
more would settle the fate of his army. The enemy 
he was advancing against was not only superior in 
numbers and discipline, but occupied an advanta- 
geous position, while a large portion of his own sol- 
diers had never been in action, and would be com- 
pelled to take such ground as would be left them. 
No wonder that his heart was filled with the deepest 
solicitude, as he thought of the unequal contest he 
was seeking. Still, a battle he must have, and a 
victory too, cost what it might, before his troops 
again disbanded. 

About eight o'clock, when yet four miles from 
Eutaw, the rolling of drums in the distance an- 
nounced the approach of the enemy. It proved to be 
only a detachment, which Lee's legion scattered be- 
fore them like chaff of the summer threshing-floor. 
The shouts that were sent back over the American 



220 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

columns, inspired new hope and courage, and they 
pressed triumphantly forward. 

The British army, under Stewart, lay at Eutaw 
Springs, in an open field — the only one in the whole 
region — protected on one side by the Eutaw creek, 
while in the rear stood barns and out-houses, present- 
ing a rallying point in case of disaster. Added to all 
this, there was a strong brick house, commanding 
the entire ground. This house was in fact an im- 
pregnable fort, for the Americans had no artillery 
heavy enough to batter it down. Through this open 
space ran the road along which Greene was advanc- 
ing. For miles away on either side, it was an un- 
broken forest; and that sweet spot, resting in the 
very bosom of nature, solitary and alone, was to be 
the meeting-place of the armies. When the news of 
Greene's approach was brought him, the English 
commander was surprised, but immediately began to 
put his army in order of battle. The tents were left 
standing in the morning sunlight, and the troops 
formed in a single line in front of them, and awaited 
the onset. They had not long to remain in suspense, 
for with streaming banners and glittering bayonets 
the American columns came steadily on, and soon the 
first line drew up face to face with the whole British 
force, and the battle opened. Gaines, with the 
American artillery, came sweeping in a gallop along 
the road, and hastily unlimbering his guns, vomited 
forth fire on the British line — the enemy's artillery 
replied, and an incessant peal of thunder rolled 
through the forests of Eutaw. The raw militia bore 
up like veterans, and thougti outnumbered, two to 



NATHANIEL CIREENE 22 1 

one, delivered their fire with such precision and 
swiftness, as for a while to overbalance that of the 
enemy. It ran in a sharp, quick rattle from one ex- 
tremity of the line to the other, with deadly effect, 
while the deep regular volleys of the English replied. 
Greene's eye kindled with exultation as he saw how 
firmly and resolutely his untried troops closed on the 
foe. But at length the superior numbers of the 
enemy began to tell, and they moved forward. The 
militia shaking under the pressure, slowly recoiled 
when Greene ordered up some of his own battalions 
to their relief, which, led on by the gallant Sumner, 
came into action in beautiful order, and delivered 
such a scourging fire, and followed it up with such 
rapidity and precision, that the English were com- 
pelled to fall back to their first position, and the 
battle raged again with tenfold fury. A part of the 
artillery on both sides had been dismounted ; but the 
rest kept thundering on in deafening explosions, till 
the trees trembled and rocked above the combatants. 
Finding his line pressed so hotly, the English com- 
mander ordered up his reserve, and the entire army 
was now engaged. Greene still kept by him two bat- 
talions of continentals, the brave Marylanders and 
Virginians, while Washington, with his fierce horse- 
men panting for the fray, sat in the rear. With these 
he had planned a terrible blow, but the moment to 
deliver it had not yet arrived. His eye flashed fire 
as he surveyed the tumultuous field, and he watched 
with delight the advancing smoke of the American 
volleys. Loud shouts were borne back to his ear, and 
our gallant troops made head against the whole Brit- 



222 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

ish array. But superior numbers at length prevailed 
— our line halted, and then, after a short struggle, 
bent backward like a serpent of fire over the ground. 
Vainly struggling to spring to its place again, it be- 
came broken ; when, observing it, the whole English 
army threw itself forward with deafening shouts. 
But pressing up its advantage too eagerly, it became 
disordered, which Greene's quick eye detected instan- 
taneously. This was his time, and he shouted to his 
brave continentals, '* Advance, and sweep the field 
with the bayonet! ^^ A loud huzza was the answer; 
and, with leaning forms and trailed bayonets, those 
two terrible battalions moved swiftly and sternly for- 
ward. In a moment the whole interest of the battle 
gathered around them, and every eye was turned on 
their ranks, as they came in beautiful order and stern 
array within reach of the enemy's volleys. The Brit- 
ish saw them approach without dismay, and sending 
up a loud shout of defiance, poured in a rapid and 
wasting fire. But nothing could stop those noble 
troops — on, on they swept, shoulder to shoulder, 
without shrinking, through the driving sleet. The 
Virginians, galled dreadfully by the fire, gave one 
volley, then rushed forward : but the stern Maryland- 
ers never pulled a trigger. Their rapid tread shook 
the field, their terrible shout drowned even the roar 
of musketry, and with their eyes bent in wrath on the 
enemy, they moved in one dark and dreadful wave 
to the shock. Before their steady valor and deter- 
mined aspect, the firmest veterans shrunk in dismay, 
and with one loud cry they fell like a rolling rock on 
the shaking ranks. Through and over them they 
went with headlong fury, turning the whole army in 



NATHANIEL GREENE 223 

affright over the field. Lee, too, came down on the 
flank with his legion, and the bugles of Washington's 
cavalry rung over the tumult, and their fierce gallop 
made the earth tremble. The British army became 
like a flock of sheep before them. Past and through 
their camp, and along the road to Charleston, they 
fled, leaving their tents standing on the plain, and all 
seemed lost. But, alas ! that deserted camp, with its 
luxuries, was more potent than when filled with war- 
riors. Breaking from their ranks, the soldiers 
swarmed through them after the spoils — all but Lee's 
gallant legion, which turned neither to the right hand 
nor to the left, but pressed fiercely on after the fugi- 
tives. In this crisis, a few British soldiers, with 
Sheridan at their head, threw themselves into the 
brick house; and, though pressed so closely by the 
Americans, that there was a desperate struggle at 
the door for the mastery, they succeeded in shutting 
themselves in. Many of their own officers and men, 
however, were left without, whom the Americans 
seized and held before them as they retreated, as 
shields against the marksmen in the house. The ar- 
tillery was hurried up, but proved to be too light to 
batter down the walls, while from every window was 
poured an incessant fire. It was then that those who 
had broken their ranks and rushed into the tents, re- 
ceived the punishment of their deeds. As fast as 
they emerged into the open air, the deadly shots from 
the house mowed them down, and many a gallant 
officer, in striving to force his men out, was picked 
off. Thus ingloriously fell those brave troops, who 
had passed scathed through the fight. 

Meanwhile, in an impenetrable thicket, which 



224 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

flanked the field of battle, there still remained a de- 
tachment of upwards of three hundred British, whom 
no effort could dislodge. Washington came thunder- 
ing on them with his squadron, but he could not 
pierce the hedge-like shrubbery. Halting to wheel 
his men by sections into an open space where he 
thought he could make a charge, such a destructive 
fire was opened on him, that every officer but two, 
and one-third of his entire squadron, fell at the first 
volley. His own horse was shot under him, and him- 
self bayoneted and taken prisoner. The remnants of 
the shattered band, undismayed, wheeled and 
charged with incredible fury. Vain valor! the 
thicket was like a wall of adamant in their faces, and 
the Delaware infantry brought up to their relief met 
with no better success. The British officer who com- 
manded that detachment, finding the Americans 
slowly enveloping him, at length began to retreat, 
hugging the thicket and ravine as he went, until he 
came where the house protected him. This enabled 
the British commander to form his line of battle 
anew. But Greene had already gained enough to 
secure his object. One-quarter of the whole English 
army had fallen on the field dead or wounded, an- 
other quarter he had taken prisoners; and this bril- 
liant success he did not wish to risk in another en- 
gagement, since he knew that his adversary would 
be compelled to retreat. He had driven the enemy 
from the field, taken a part of their artillery and a 
quarter of their army, and crushed forever their 
boasted superiority with the bayonet ; and so leaving 
a strong picket on the ground under Hampton, re- 



NATHANIEL GREENE 22$ 

tired from the combat, though he could have renewed 
the battle with success, and gained it the second time. 
But with his prisoners and wounded, and his army 
exhausted with fatigue, he could not continue the 
pursuit, and hence a complete victory would end only 
in the retreat of the enemy — a result that would oc- 
cur without any more fighting. 

Lee went with a flag to the English commander, to 
propose that both armies should unite in burying the 
dead. The roar of the conflict had died away, and 
the burning sun was still high in the heavens, when 
the hostile bands, forgetting their animosities, min- 
gled together in bearing off their fallen comrades. 
There they lay, friend and foe, side by side — many 
mutually transfixed, and scowling on each other in 
death. The field was red with blood, and the slain 
lay thick as autumn-leaves over that open space. But 
there was one spectacle which, as it met his gaze, 
wrung Greene's heart with the bitterest anguish. 
Before him, in ghastly rows, lay fifty of his brave 
officers, pale and cold in death, or bleeding fast from 
their wounds. In a small, miserable hovel, standing 
by itself, were the officers of Washington's squad- 
ron, who had fallen under that dreadful fire from the 
thicket. They were all noble young men, in the 
morning of life — heroes every one of them, who had 
closed firmly round him in his darkest hours. As he 
passed among them his lips quivered — his eyes filled 
with tears, and to those stretched on the floor, still 
breathing, he said, in a voice choked with emotion : 
'' It zvas a hying duty imposed on you; but it was 
unavoidable. I could not help it/' 

A. B., VOL. III. — 15 



226 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

So overcome with thirst and heat were the men, 
after the battle, that they ran and plunged bodily into 
the ponds and swamps. But their sufferings did not 
end w^ith the day. The sickly season had set in, and 
fevers were added to wounds, till the hospitals were 
crowded, and the surgeons and physicians worn 
down with constant labor. The enemy had fled in 
affright, immediately after the battle, closely pursued 
by Lee's legion, and Marion's men ; and Greene him- 
self would have pushed on, but his sick and dying 
army required repose, and he repaired to the hills of 
Santee. In this distressed and crippled condition his 
feelings were sorely tried, and in no way more than 
in seeing the sufferings of his faithful soldiers. He 
would go himself through the hospital, cheering up 
the desponding, and stooping over the fevered couch 
of the dying, while blessings and tears followed his 
footsteps. 

Two months passed aw^ay in this manner, and the 
enemy were gathering their forces again. The re- 
cruits on their way to join him, had been stopped at 
Yorktown, and but a feeble band remained under his 
command. Apparently deserted and abandoned, his 
officers began to despond, and proposed to abandon 
all further effort. '" No/' said the intrepid and noble- 
hearted patriot, '' I zvill save the country or perish in 
the attempt; " and while yet in the midst of his trou- 
bles and embarrassments, hearing of the approach of 
Washington against Cornwallis, and fearing the lat- 
ter would attempt to retreat through the Carolinas, 
to Charleston, he made preparations to cross his path, 
and again measure strength with him. But on the 



NATHANIEL GREENE 227 

9th of November, 1 78 1 , the news was brought of the 
surrender of the British army; and joy and exulta- 
tion reigned throughout the camp. 

Greene now hoped to draw the French fleet south, 
to co-operate with him in reducing Charleston; but 
failing in this, he boldly took the field against the 
enemy. Sending Marion to operate between Charles- 
ton and Santee, and Sumpter to overawe the Tories 
at Orangeburg, he, with eight hundred men advanced 
against Dorchester, where one portion of the English 
army was lying. Stewart, his old adversary of 
Eutaw, was only seven miles from this place, with 
the other division ; but Greene hoped by a surprise to 
crush the former, before he could come to its relief. 
With his eight hundred men he moved rapidly over 
the intervening country, and abandoning the public 
roads, made his way- through forests and swamps, 
and faUing on the English cavalry and breaking it in 
pieces, suddenly presented himself before Dorchester. 
But the British had heard of his approach, notwith- 
standing his precaution, and destroying their stores, 
precipitately retreated to within six miles of Charles- 
ton. Thither also Stewart fled, and thus, by a bril- 
liant manoeuvre, Greene drove the enemy from all 
their strong posts, and cooped them up around 
Charleston. The country rung with applause, and 
his own officers were dazzled at the genius and dar- 
ing which had accomplished so much. Following up 
his success, he began to draw his toils closer and 
closer around the city. But in the very midst of his 
victories, came the news, that two thousand men 
from New York, and three thousand from Ireland, 



228 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

were on their way to relieve the place. Instead of 
yielding to despair at this unlooked-for danger, he 
summoned all his energies to meet it. He called on 
the separate States, in the most beseeching language, 
for reinforcements, and the state of his mind at this 
time may be imagined, from a letter he wrote to 
Davies. " For God's sake! " said he, "" give no sleep 
to your eyes, nor slumber to your eyelids, until you 
get the troops on the march/' Desperate as was his 
position, he was determined to fight ; and if he could 
not win the battle, at least so burden the enemy with 
wounded, that they could not pursue him. The re- 
port, however, turned out to be a gross exaggeration, 
and a world of anxiety was taken from his mind. 
In writing to a friend afterwards, he says, with a 
mixture of mirth and firmness : " I have not been 
frightened, as Dr. Skinner says, but / have been con- 
foundedly alarmed/' 

John's Island was now the only point around 
Charleston in possession of the British troops, and 
this he determined to carry by storm. There was 
but one place where an army could wade to the 
island, and over that only at low tide ; while galleys 
moored within four hundred yards of each other, 
commanded the passage. Two columns were put in 
motion on the night of the 13th of January, and 
silently began their march. Lee's reached the shore, 
and cautiously passed over ; while the " All's well," 
from the galleys, ringing through the darkness, 
showed that they had not been discovered. He drew 
up his men on the beach, and there, wet and shiver- 
ing, waited the arrival of the other column. This, 



NATHANIEL GREENE 229 

however, being deserted by its guide, and losing its 
way, had wandered all night through the fields. 
Messengers had been despatched in every direction, 
but the secrecy with which everything had been con- 
ducted rendered their search fruitless. At length 
light streaks along the eastern sky announced the 
approach of day, and the brave column was recalled 
to the main land, and reached it in safety, though the 
tide was running breast-high. This bold and skil- 
fully laid plan had failed — but nothing daunted, 
Greene ordered up his artillery, and opened a fierce 
fire on the galleys, which forced them from their po- 
sition, and drove the enemy into Charleston. Press- 
ing up his advantage, he now threatened the city 
itself. 

But during the privations of the winter the troops 
became discouraged, and some of them, mostly Penn- 
sylvanians, plotted a revolt. They opened communi- 
cations with the enemy, and everything was arranged 
to deliver Greene into their hands. But the day be- 
fore this infamous plot was to be carried into execu- 
tion, it was discovered, and the leader of it hung in 
presence of the army. 

In the meantime Greene continued to draw his 
lines closer and closer around Charleston. The 
Spring found him still menacing the town, but with- 
out the power to inflict a blow. Summer came, and 
still he lingered; until at last the pestilential atmos- 
phere began its work. Struck down by disease, the 
men died by scores, and the air became loaded with 
the stench of putrid corpses. In approaching the 
camp, you would have thought, from the smell, that 



230 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

the whole army was rotting in the sun. It was per- 
fectly horrible; and at last Greene himself was 
stricken down with the fever though his resolute 
spirit still remained unbroken. The utmost destitu- 
tion prevailed ; so that even salt had to be manufac- 
tured on the sea-shore, to furnish a supply. The 
soldiers were without clothing — there was scarce one 
blanket to ten men — hundreds were entirely naked; 
and thus, consumed with fever, they slowly wasted 
away. There were a thousand so destitute of gar- 
ments, that Greene could not ask them to appear on 
duty, except in the most desperate emergency. Thus 
the Spring and Autumn passed. At length the army 
received a good supply of clothing, and the sickness 
began slowly to disappear. 

The enemy were still in Charleston, but their con- 
dition was every day becoming more and more strait- 
ened; and at last they determined to evacuate the 
city. When the morning gun of the thirteenth of 
December broke over the American camp — the signal 
for the embarkation to commence — loud shouts of 
exultation went up; and as the soldiers entered the 
town, so great was their eagerness, that the officers 
could scarcely restrain them from pressing on the 
ranks of the retiring foe. At three o'clock Greene 
entered, with the governor by his side, preceded by 
thirty dragoons, and followed by a long procession of 
citizens, while his brave cavalry brought up the rear. 
With banners flying, and drums beating, and bugles 
breathing forth their most triumphant strains, the 
imposing procession moved through the streets. 
Every window was thronged with happy faces ; and 



NATHANIEL GREENE 23 I 

the whole city had turned out to see the man, the 
history of whose toils, and sufferings, and battles, 
and victories had become familiar as household 
words, and who was now bringing them freedom, 
and joy, and peace. At first, a breathless silence 
hung over the immense multitude, and eyes swim- 
ming in tears were turned in mute love and admira- 
tion towards the advancing chieftain. Suddenly, as 
if by a common impulse, there arose over this deep 
hush, one long and deafening shout, till the city 
rocked and rung with the jubilee; and "God bless 
you! God bless you! " fell on every side, from hearts 
overflowing with joy and gratitude. That was a 
proud day to the noble-hearted veteran ; and in that 
single moment of bliss he received a full reward for 
his toils. As he looked on the thousands of beaming 
and happy faces, his manly breast heaved with emo- 
tion, and that iron heart, which no toil, nor suffering, 
nor danger, could subdue, sunk under the tide of 
affection, and the eye that had never blenched, in the 
wildest of the battle, flowed in tears. Noble man! 
those tears honored him more than his hard-earned 
laurels. 

This ended the war in the South — Greene had 
conquered at last, though under circumstances that 
fill the historian with wonder as he traces back the 
stream of events. 

Of his efforts in behalf of his soldiers, and the 
difficulties he surmounted while commanding in 
Charleston, I will say nothing. In April, the news of 
peace was received with illuminations, and salutes of 
cannon, and unbounded demonstrations of joy; and 



232 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

in August he bade farewell to his army, which had 
become endeared to him by a common suffering, and 
a thousand proofs of devotion, and took his journey 
northward. At Princeton, he met his beloved com- 
mander Washington, and there they talked over to- 
gether their toils, and the glorious prospects before 
their country. Hastening on to his family, in Rhode 
Island, he was everywhere received with applause. 
He found his affairs involved, but taking a small 
house at Newport, he began to gather around him 
the comforts of home. But his great exposures and 
incessant toil, together with his sickness in his south- 
ern campaigns, had made severe inroads on his iron 
constitution. He, however, rallied again, and, in 
1785, after passing through great pecuniary embar- 
rassments, removed to Georgia, to a plantation on 
the Savannah River, which had been presented to 
him by the State. Soon after his arrival, he received 
a challenge from a Captain Gunn, on account of 
some decision he had made against him during the 
war, respecting a horse. Greene promptly rejected 
it, thus furnishing a noble example to the South, of 
which he had become a citizen. This was a bold 
step to take, considering the state of public feeling 
at that time, and Greene knew it, and wrote to Wash- 
ington asking his advice. It is needless to say, the 
latter approved his course. 

The next year he removed his family to his planta- 
tion, called Mulberry Grove, and there, surrounded 
by those he loved, he seemed to recover the freshness 
and elasticity of youth. His happiness, however, 
was of short duration. On his way home from 



NATHANIEL GREENE 233 

Savannah, in June, whither he had gone on business, 
he stopped with Mr. Gibbons over night, and next 
day walking out with him to view his rice plantation, 
received a partial sunstroke. He reached home, but 
the death-blow had been inflicted, and after a few 
days of suffering, he, on the i8th of June, 1786, 
closed his career. He was in the prime of life, being 
only forty-four years of age when he died. His body 
was carried to Savannah; and there followed by an 
immense concourse of people, and amid general 
mourning, was borne to the grave. 

HIS CHARACTER 

Next to Washington, Greene was the ablest com- 
mander in the revolutionary army. In person he was 
above the middle height, and strongly made. He 
had a fine face, with a florid complexion, lit up by 
brilliant blue eyes. His natural expression was 
frank and benevolent, but in battle it assumed a 
sternness, which showed that beneath his easy and 
gentle manners, was a strength of purpose not easily 
overcome. When highly excited, or absorbed in in- 
tense thought, he had a curious habit of rubbing vio- 
lently his upper lip with his fore-finger. Inured by 
exposure and toil, his frame possessed a wonderful 
power of endurance, rendered still greater by the in- 
domitable will it enclosed. A self-made man, he rose 
from the ranks to major-general of the army, solely 
by his own genius and force. Ignorant at first of 
military tactics, he applied himself with such dili- 
gence to the subject, that he mastered them in less 



2 34 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

time than many employ on the rudiments: and the 
knowledge he obtained was not merely so many 
maxims and rules stowed away, but principles, out of 
which he wrought his own plans and system. He 
had an almost intuitive perception of character. He 
resembled Washington in this respect, and seemed 
to take the exact measure of every man who ap- 
proached him. Many of his actions in the field were 
based upon this knowledge of his adversaries, and 
hence, though often inexplicable to others, perfectly 
clear and rational to himself. Thus, in the southern 
campaign against Cornwallis, his movements were 
sometimes considered rash in the extreme by those 
who judged of them merely from the relative posi- 
tion and strength of the armies., ^'' But to him, who 
could judge more correctly from his knowledge of 
men's views and character, than from their transient 
movements, what course they would take, they ap- 
peared the wisest he could adopt. A more fearless 
man never led an army ; and his courage was not the 
result of sudden enthusiasm, or even of excitement, 
but of a well-balanced and strong character. He 
was never known to be thrown from his perfect self- 
possession by any danger, however sudden ; and was 
just as calm and collected when his shattered army 
tossed in a perfect wreck around him, as in his tent 
at night. The roar of artillery, and the tumult of a 
fierce-fought battle, could not disturb the natural ac- 
tion of his mind — his thoughts were as clear, and his 
judgment was as correct in the midst of a sudden 
and unexpected overthrow, as in planning a cam- 
paign. This gave him tremendous power, and was 



NATHANIEL GREENE 235 

the great reason that, though beaten, he could not be 
utterly routed. No matter how superior his antago- 
nist, or how unexpected the panic of his troops, he 
was never, like Gates, driven a fugitive from the 
field. He possessed two qualities seldom found 
united — great caution, and yet great rapidity. His 
blow w^as carefully planned, but when it came it fell 
like falling lightning. His mind was clear and com- 
prehensive, and worked with ceaseless activity and 
energy. Nothing could escape his glance, and he 
seemed to forecast all the contingencies that did or 
could happen. His fortitude was wonderful. All 
exposures, all privations, all embarrassments, toils 
and sufferings, he bore with a patience that filled his 
soldiers with astonishment and admiration. During 
his southern campaign he never took off his clothes, 
except to change them, for seven months; and some- 
times would be in the saddle two days on a stretch, 
without a moment's repose. His energy was equal 
to his endurance; for he not only bore everything 
bravely, but, under difBculties that would have 
weighed an ordinary man to the earth, put forth al- 
most super-human exertions. No sooner was one 
obstacle surmounted than he attacked another; and 
no sooner was one danger escaped than he plunged 
into another, again to extricate himself, to the aston- 
ishment of all. Tireless as fate itself, he would 
neither take repose nor allow it to his enemy. His 
whole career, while opposed to Cornwallis, is one of 
the most remarkable in the history of military men. 
When he took command of the southern army, he 
found it to consist of a mere handful of destitute, un- 



236 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

disciplined, and ragged troops: yet, with these, he 
entered the field against one of the best generals of 
the age supported by an army of veteran soldiers. 
With his raw recruits around him, he immediately 
began the offensive ; and before his powerful enemy 
had time to penetrate his plans, smote him terribly at 
Cowpens. Having by this movement brought the 
whole English force against him, he was compelled 
to retreat, and by a series of skilful manoeuvres and 
forced marches, completely foiled every attempt to 
reach him. Unable to cope with his adversary, he, 
nevertheless, refused to quit the field — retiring like 
the lion, slowly and resolutely. He kept his pursuer 
ever under his eye, so that he could not make a mis- 
take without receiving a blow. He stopped when 
his adversary stopped, and looked him boldly in the 
face, till he provoked him to burn his baggage, in 
order to convert his entire army into light troops and 
thus facilitate his movements. But even then he 
would out-march and out-manoeuvre him, penetrat- 
ing and bailing every plan laid against him, and 
carrying out every one of his own. He thus led his 
enemy through the entire State of North Carolina; 
and the moment he turned, followed him, and dealt 
him such a staggering blow at Guilford, that he was 
compelled to a precipitate flight. No sooner was 
Cornwallis beyond his reach, than he turned furious- 
ly on his posts in South Carolina, and carrying them 
one after another, brought the war to the doors of 
Charleston. His combinations, throughout the 
whole campaign, were admirable, and succeeded be- 
yond the most sanguine expectations. He did not 



NATHANIEL GREENE 237 

commit a single error, and every failure that befell 
him was the result of the most arrant cowardice on 
the part of some of his militia. 

Years before, the English officer opposed to him in 
Jersey, wrote, saying, '' Greene is dangerous as 
Washington — he is vigilant, enterprising, and full of 
resources ; " and the Chevalier de la Luzerne, Knight 
of Malta, in speaking of his southern campaign, said : 
'' Other generals subdue their enemy, by the means 
which their country or sovereign furnishes them ; but 
Greene appears to reduce his enemy by his own 
means. He commenced his campaign without either 
an army, provisions, or military stores. He has 
asked for nothing since ; and yet, scarcely a post ar- 
rives from the South that does not bring intelligence 
of some new advantage gained over the foe. He 
conquers by magic. History furnishes no parallel 
to this." 

The resources of his mind were mexhaustible — 
there was no gulf out of which he could not find a 
way of escape, and no plan, if necessary, too hopeless 
for him to attempt. Without a dollar from govern- 
ment, and penniless himself, he nevertheless man- 
aged to keep an army in the field, and conquer with 
it. True, it was half-naked and half-starved ; but by 
his wonderful power he succeeded in holding it to- 
gether. His soldiers loved him with devotion, and 
having seen him extricate himself so often from ap- 
parently inevitable ruin, they at length came to re- 
gard him as invincible. Sharing all their toils and 
dangers, and partaking of all their sufferings, he so 
wound himself into their affections, that they would 



238 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

go wherever he commanded. He made of raw 
militia all that ever can be made of them, in the short 
time he had them under his control. 

His patriotism was of the purest kind, and Wash- 
ington spoke from correct knowledge when he said : 
'' Could he but promote the interests of his country 
in the character of a corporal, he would exchange, 
without a murmur, his epaulettes for the knot." His 
own reputation and life he regarded as nothing in the 
cause of freedom. Next to his country, he loved 
Washington ; and no mean ambition, or envy of his 
great leader, ever sullied his noble character. That 
affection was returned, and the two heroes moved 
side by side, as tried friends, through the revolution- 
ary struggle. He was a man whose like is seldom 
seen; and placed in any country, opposed to any 
commander, would have stood first in the rank of 
military chieftains. In the heart of Europe, with a 
veteran army under his command, he would have 
astonished the world. 



LIFE OF 
MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 



BY 



]. T. HEADLEY 



MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 



His Birth and early Marriage. — His interest in our Cause. — 
Resolves to come to this Country. — Forbidden by his Gov- 
ernment. — Buys and fits out a Ship at his own expense. — 
Cold reception by Congress. — Warm one by Washington. — 
Bravery at Brandywine. — Affair of Gloucester Point. — 
Given command of a Division. — Affair of Barren Hill, — 
Bravery at Monmouth. — Sent South to repel Arnold and 
Cornwallis. — Coops the latter up at Yorktown. — Storming 
of the Redoubts. — Returns to France. — Chief Actor in the 
French Revolution. — Commands the National Guard. — 
Storming of Versailles by Women. — Scene in the Champ de 
Mars. — Appointed Commander in the French Army. — His 
Flight. — Made Prisoner by Austria. — Noble attempts to res- 
cue him. — Liberated by Napoleon. — Returns to private life. — 
Visit to this Country. — His enthusiastic Reception. — His 
triumphal Progress. — Returns to France. — Helps to over- 
throw Charles X. — His Death and Character, 

There are now and then bright spots on this 
darkened planet of ours — great and glorious ex- 
amples of human virtue, interrupting the otherwise 
sad history of the race. Patriotism, which sinks 
self, and scorns death, is a noble virtue — yet one 
might be expected to defend his own land and 
hearth-stones. But that philanthropy which goes 
out of its own hemisphere, to seek the welfare, and 
suffer for the freedom of strangers, is a rarer virtue. 
A. B., VOL. III. — 16 241 



242 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

yet the one which has immortahzed Lafayette. One 
can never think of that French boy, eighteen years 
of age, just married, rolHng in wealth, and basking 
in the sunshine of court favor, sending up from the 
Tuileries of Paris his shout for us and our cause, 
without the deepest emotion. Our admiration and 
affection are not lessened, when we see him lavish- 
ing his wealth on our naked famishing soldiers — 
winding himself in child-like love round the great 
heart of our Washington — charging like a veteran 
through the ranks of our foemen, and carried pale 
and bleeding from our disastrous fields. 

There is something exquisitely touching and beau- 
tiful in the enthusiasm of this youth in our behalf. 
His whole career, as connected with this country, 
seems to belong rather to the. writer of romance, than 
of plain history. To give a naked narrative of facts, 
is to weave poetry into politics, and throw gushes of 
warm, generous feeling, into the cold calculations of 
intriguing statesmen. France wished us success, 
because it would revenge her for the loss of her col- 
onies in this country, and weaken the power of her 
rival in the new world ; but these motives never en- 
tered into the heart of Lafayette. He saw only a 
weak, but brave people, struggling to be free; and 
overleaping all questions of interest — breaking 
away from*all the ties of home, family and country, 
threw himself alone into our arms. National preju- 
dice, the jealousy of our officers, and the coldness 
of Congress, could not check the warm current of his 
sympathy. For us he was determined to fight — in 
our cause expend his fortune, and peril his life. Not 



MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 243 

an exile, nor an adventurer — but a wealthy, flattered 
young nobleman, he cast from him the luxuries and 
gayeties of the French court — turned away from all 
the honors that clustered in his path, and became 
the companion of our poverty and toils — the jest and 
bye-word of kings. 

GiLBERT-MoTiER Lafayette was the only son 
of Marquis de Lafayette, a French colonel, who fell 
in the battle of Minden. He was not born till two 
months after the death of his father. At the age 
of twelve years he was sent to college at Paris, — but 
his mother dying soon after, he became sole posses- 
sor of the family estates, and his own master. At 
fifteen he was chosen one of the queen's pages, and 
appointed an officer in the king's regiment of mus- 
keteers — the next year he married Countess Anas- 
tasie, daughter of the Duke de Noailles, a lady of 
immense wealth. The fortune she brought her 
young husband, added to his own, swelled his in- 
come to $37,500 per annum. Ardent, enthusiastic, 
loving adventure and glory, — he entered on the race 
of life under the most flattering auspices. Inde- 
pendent and bold, he disdained to flatter, and sought 
no emoluments from the throne which threw the 
shadow of its protection over him. 

At this early age he belonged to an association of 
young men, the object of which was to discuss the 
question of civil liberty. Our Revolution, with the 
principles on which it was based, startled every 
despot of Europe on his throne; and the young 
Lafayette, seemed suddenly to have opened his eyes 
on a world about which he had hitherto been only 



244 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

dreaming. Says he : " When I first learned the sub- 
ject of this quarrel, my heart espoused warmly the 
cause of liberty, and I thought of nothing, but of 
adding also the aid of my banner." The question 
took such deep hold of his ardent and generous na- 
ture, that he could not rest until he resolved to come 
to America. Acquainting his relative, the Count de 
Broglie, with his intentions, the latter approved of 
his feelings, but condemned his plans. Said he: 
" I have seen your uncle die in the wars of Italy ; 
I witnessed your father's death at the battle of Min- 
den ; and I will not be accessory to the ruin of the 
only remaining branch of the family." When, how- 
ever, he found him determined, he kindly gave him 
his countenance and aid. 

He then obtained, through the Baron de Kalb, an 
introduction to Silas Deane, our ambassador at 
Paris ; who entered warmly into his -feelings, and 
gave him a letter to Congress, requesting them to 
appoint him major-general in the American army. 
A vessel was about being fitted out to come to this 
country, in which the young Marquis resolved to 
embark. But just then came the news of our disas- 
ters — New York, Long Island — our posts on the 
Hudson, had fallen one after another — and our 
cause seemed hopeless. It was no longer possible to 
obtain a vessel ; and Doctor Franklin and Arthur 
Lee, who had been added to our embassy at Paris, 
endeavored to persuade the young nobleman to aban- 
don his project. But he was not to be thus deterred 
— our distresses only inflamed his sympathy; and 
calling on Mr. Deane, he told him that he was now 



MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 245 

going to prove his ardor in the cause of American Hb- 
erty, by purchaatng and fitting out a vessel with his 
own means, in which he himself would carry out the 
officers they wished to send. A vessel was pur- 
chased at Bordeaux; and while it was undergoing 
repairs, he went to England with the Prince de Poix, 
in order to conceal his designs from the French gov- 
ernment, which would have arrested them at once. 

Returning to Paris, he concealed himself several 
days, and then went to Bordeaux. But his vessel 
was not ready for sea, and while he was waiting, his 
friends and the government got wind of his plans, 
and the latter immediately sent officers to arrest him. 
Hearing of these movements, he fled to Passage, a 
Spanish port, where his arrest and his letters over- 
took him. The king ordered him peremptorily to 
court, while the letters of his friends were violent 
in the extreme. Here was a dilemma for the bold 
stripling. To prevent his departure from being 
known, he had concealed it even from his young 
wife, and her letter reproached him for his cruelty. 
This shook his resolution more than the threats of 
his relatives or the authority of the king. He re- 
turned to Bordeaux, and opened a correspondence 
with the government, justifying his course, and ask- 
ing permission to depart. Receiving no answer, he 
determined at all hazards to sail, and disguising him- 
self as a courier, started for Passage, where his ves- 
sel lay. His pursuers were on the track, but his 
disguise protected him, and he reached Passage in 
safety, and the same day weighed anchor and stood 
out to sea. Baron de Kalb, and eleven other officers. 



246 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

accompanied him, and after a voyage of seven 
weeks, he finally reached Georgetown, South Caro- 
lina, and received his first welcome from Major 
Huger. Repairing immediately to Charleston, he 
presented Moultrie with clothing, arms, &c., for a 
hundred or a hundred and fifty men, as a reward for 
their gallant defence of Sullivan's Island. His let- 
ters to his wife, written at this period, are full of 
affection, and exhibit the ardor and enthusiasm of a 
youth on whom this new country, with its new 
scenes, customs, and manners, had made a lively 
impression. 

Hastening on to Philadelphia — riding nine hun- 
dred miles of the distance on horseback, he presented 
his letters to Congress, together with the stipulation 
of Mr. Deane, respecting the rank he was to hold. 
Congress, however, received him coldly; such a host 
of foreign of^cers, many of them needy adventurers, 
had applied for appointments, that it began to be 
alarmed; and Mr. Lovell, one of the members, told 
him he thought 'his request would be denied. Be- 
sides, Lafayette was a mere boy, only nineteen years 
of age, and it was risking too much to place him in a 
responsible position. But he was not to be offended 
or deterred by coldness, and so the next day he sent 
the following note to Congress : " After the sacri- 
fices I have made, I have the right to exact two fa- 
vors; one is, to serve at my own expense — the other 
is, to serve at first as a volunteer/' " Favors " in- 
deed, to fight at his own expense, without rank or 
emolument, and for the freedom of strangers, who 
received him coldly ! Congress must have possessed 



MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 247 

hearts of stone to have resisted this magnanimity; 
it could not do it, and immediately made out his 
commission. The next day he was introduced to 
Washington at a dinner-party, and the impression 
the latter made on him, may be inferred from his 
own language — says he, " Although he was sur- 
rounded by officers and citizens, it was impossible 
to mistake, for a moment, his majestic figure and 
deportment." 

After dinner, Washington took him aside, and 
told him always to regard himself as one of his own 
family — pleasantly adding, that he must not expect 
the luxuries of a court in a republican army. From 
that moment a friendship commenced between them, 
which only grew stronger with time. The generous 
heart of Washington warmed spontaneously to- 
wards this enthusiastic, self-sacrificing youth, and 
he took him to his arms at once, and loved him as a 
son. That afifection was returned, and there is noth- 
ing more toudhing and beautiful in our Revolution- 
ary history, than the attachment between that strong, 
self-reliant, mature man, and the young, impulsive 
nobleman. But though there was such a disparity 
in their age and experience, there was not in the 
height of their persons, and they moved about head 
and shoulders above all the rest. 

On the day that he arrived in camp, there was a 
review of the troops, and one can well imagine that 
those eleven thousand men '' presented a strange 
spectacle " to him : " Their clothes," he writes, 
" were partly-colored, and many of them were partly 
naked ; the best clad wore hunting-shirts — large gray 



248 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

linen coats. As to their military tactics, it will be 
sufficient to say that, for a regiment ranged in order 
of battle, to move forward on the right of its line, 
it was necessary for the left to make a continued 
countermarch. They were all arranged in two lines, 
the smallest men in the first line — no other distinc- 
tion, as to height, was ever observed." 

Soon after, the battle of Brandywine occurred, in 
which Lafayette behaved with the greatest gallantry. 
He sought the post of danger; and while on foot, 
endeavoring to rally the troops, received a wound 
in the leg. In the flight he came very near being 
taken, and but for his aide, Gima, who helped him 
on a horse ; this, his first battle in behalf of Ameri- 
can freedom, would probably have been his last. As 
he was hurrying over the field, he met Washington, 
advancing to check the pursuit, and was about to 
turn back with him, when the loss of blood obliged 
him to halt, and have his wound bandaged. In the 
final rout, he was compelled, though pale and bleed- 
ing, to ride twelve miles without stopping. At 
length, coming to a bridge, he endeavored, weak and 
exhausted as he was, to rally the troops, and was 
straining every nerve when Washington and his 
suite came galloping up. He then had his wound 
dressed, and the next morning was carried into 
Philadelphia, and from thence, on the approach of 
the British, to Bethlehem, and left in the care of the 
Moravians, who nursed him with the greatest solici- 
tude. The pious brotherhood endeavored to instil 
in his mind sentiments of peace — he listened with 
great attention, but was planning the while an attack 



MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 249 

on the British possessions in the West Indies, and 
another on the EngHsh factories in the Isle of 
France. These projects were forwarded to the 
French court; but, though approved, were not 
carried out, as it still occupied a neutral position 
between the colonies and England. The French 
minister, however, was pleased with the spirit and 
energy of the young Republican, and remarked pleas- 
antly : " He will end one day, by unfurnishing the 
palace of Versailles, to serve the American cause: 
for when he has taken anything into his head it is 
impossible to resist him." 

He also wrote at this time an affectionate, and 
playful letter to his wife, in which he pours forth 
every feeling of his heart, with the frank impulsive- 
ness of a child. In speaking of the battle of Brandy- 
wine, he says : " I must now give you a lesson, as 
wife of an American general officer. They will say 
to you, ' They have been beaten/ You must answer 
— * That is true; but when two armies of equal num- 
ber meet in the field, old soldiers have naturally the 
advantage over new ones ; they have, besides, had the 
pleasure of killing a great many of the enemy, many 
more than they have lost.' They will afterwards 
add, ' All that is very well ; but Philadelphia is taken, 
the capital of America, the rampart of liberty.' You 
must politely answer, 'You are all great fools! 
Philadelphia is a poor forlorn town, exposed on 
every side, whose harbor was already closed, though 
the residence of Congress lent it, I know not why, 
some degree of celebrity.' This is the famous city! 
which, be it added, we will sooner or later, make 
them yield 'back to us." 



250 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

In October, while his wound was still unhealed, he 
joined the army at Whitemarsh. Soon after, 
Greene was sent by Washington to operate against 
Cornwallis, then in New Jersey; and Lafayette, 
though unable yet to wear a boot, requested to ac- 
company him as a volunteer. Having obtained per- 
mission to take with him three hundred and fifty 
men, and reconnoitre — he left the main body, and 
came up with Cornwallis at Gloucester, opposite 
Philadelphia. Advancing out on a sandy point to 
obtain a better view, he was discovered by the British, 
commander, and a detachment of dragoons imme- 
diately sent to cut him off — but taking a back road, 
he escaped them, and passing within two miles of 
the enemy's camp, came upon an outpost of four 
hundred Hessians. Without a moment's delay, he 
led his raw militia so furiously to the attack, that the 
whole detachment gave way. He pursued them to 
within a half mile of the main body, killing and 
wounding fifty or sixty of them, and then retired in 
safety. Lafayette was delighted with the behavior 
of his men on this occasion, saying, in his letter to 
Washington, that he '' found the riflemen even above 
their reputation — and the militia above all his ex- 
pectations." *' I must tell, too," he added '' that the 
riflemen had been the whole day running before my 
horse, without eating or taking any rest." This 
brilliant little affair contributed much to bring about 
an event, which had troubled Washington exceed- 
ingly. Lafayette had requested to be given the com- 
mand of a division, and the former had written fre- 
quently to Congress about it; but the appointment, 



MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 25 1 

for various reasons, was delayed. A resolve, how- 
ever, was finally passed, recommending him to be 
placed over a division of the Continental army ; and 
the Virginia troops, hitherto under General Steph- 
ens, were given him. 

The sufferings of Valley Forge followed this cam- 
paign; and Lafayette, notwithstanding his wealth 
and the comforts to which he had been accustomed, 
cheerfully shared with the officers their privations — 
and entering at once into our feelings, adopted our 
dress and customs, and thus completely wound him- 
self into our affections. Everybody loved him, and 
from one end of the land to the other, his name was 
ever coupled with blessings. 

I have spoken elsewhere of the Conway cabal, by 
which it was sought to place Gates over Washington, 
and of the effort to draw Lafayette into it, by ap- 
pointing him commander of the expedition to be 
fitted out against Canada. The plan was laid with 
skill, for the authors of it knew that nothing could be 
more agreeable to the French nobleman than to 
wrest the former province of his country from the 
hands of the English. Finding, however, that his 
attachment could not be shaken, the contemptible 
Board of War, and still more contemptible faction in 
Congress, concluded it was best to abandon the proj- 
ect altogether; and in March, Lafayette returned 
from Albany, where he had been making arrange- 
ments for it, to Valley Forge. 

Here, on the 5th of May, arrived the intelligence 
of the alliance of France with us ; and the most un- 
bounded joy prevailed throughout the camp and the 



2 52 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

nation. Lafayette had contributed much to secure 
this result, which at once gave permanency to our 
struggle. His letters to his friends, high in favor, 
and to Government — the enthusiasm with which he 
followed our fortunes, had all combined to make our 
cause popular with the entire French nation. 

A day of general rejoicing was set apart to com- 
memorate the event, and amid the gloomy huts of 
Valley Forge went up a loud huzza, that from that 
time on scarce ever died away, till the united shout 
of a ransomed people shook the world.* 

* The following is the general order issued by Washington 
on that occasion : — 

" Head Quarters, Camp Valley Forge, 
May sth, 1778. 

" It having pleased the Almighty Ruler of the universe pro- 
pitiously to defend the cause of the United American States, 
and finally, by raising us up a powerful friend among the 
princes of the earth, to establish our liberty and independence 
on a lasting foundation ; it becomes us to set apart a day for 
gratefully acknowledging the Divine goodness, and celebrat- 
ing the important event which we owe to His benign interpo- 
sition. 

" The several brigades are to be assembled for this purpose 
at nine o'clock to-morrow morning, when their chaplains will 
communicate the intelligence contained in the Postscript to the 
Pennsylvania Gazette of the second instant, and offer up a 
thanksgiving, and deliver a discourse suitable to the occasion. 

" At half-past ten o'clock a cannon will be fired, which is to 
be a signal for the men to be under arms. The brigade inspec- 
tors will then inspect their dress and arms, form the battalions 
according to the instructions given them, and announce to the 
commanding officers of brigades that the battalions are formed. 
The brigadiers and commandants will then appoint the field 
officers to command the battalions ; after which, each battalion 
will be ordered to load and ground their arms. At half-past 
eleven, another cannon will be fired rs a signal for the march; 
on which the several brigades will begin their march by wheel- 
ing to the right by platoons, and proceed by the nearest way to 
the left of their ground, in the new position that will be 



MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 253 



AFFAIR OF BARREN HILL 

On the 1 8th of May, Washington, having heard 
that the British were making preparations to evacu- 
ate Philadelphia, detached Lafayette with two thou- 
sand men and five pieces of cannon, to watch their 
motions, and protect the country from the incursions 
of marauding parties. Crossing the Schuylkill, the 
latter took post on Barren Hill, about half way be- 
tween Valley Forge and Philadelphia, or nine miles 
from each, and stationed his pickets so as to prevent 
surprise. But information of his movements was 
conveyed to Sir Henry Clinton, in Philadelphia, by 
a spy, and a force sufficient to crush three such de- 
tachments immediately sent out against him. It was 
designed to take him by surprise, and, cutting off his 
retreat, oblige him to surrender. On the morning 
of the 19th, the English commander put his troops in 
motion — advancing in three columns. One of these, 
five thousand strong, ascended the Schuylkill, and 
threw itself directly in rear of Lafayette. There 
were two fords by which the Marquis could cross the 
river, and to each of these one of the columns was 
directed, while Howe marched with an overwhelm- 
ing force to attack him in front. The whole affair 

pointed out by the brigade inspectors. A third signal will be 
given, on which there will be a discharge of thirteen cannon ; 
when the thirteenth has fired, a running fire of the infantry 
will begin on the right of Woodford's, and continue through- 
out the whole front line; it will then be taken up on the left 
of the second line and continue to the right. On a signal 
given, the whole army will huzza — Long live the King of 
France! " 



254 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

had been planned with such secrecy that the enemy 
never doubted of success, and Howe had promised 
to bring Lafayette with him to dinner next day. 
When the sun rose in the morning, his promise bid 
fair to be fulfilled. A spectacle, alarming enough to 
appall an older heart than Lafayette's, met his gaze 
as he looked off from his height. Between him and 
the Schuylkill, and Valley Forge, lay an immense 
army — one portion commanding completely one 
ford, the other occupying a hill, from which it could 
descend like a torrent on his line of march for the 
remaining passage, while in front was rapidly ad- 
vancing the main body, to attack him. Owing to 
the neglect or treachery of the Pennsylvania picket, 
he had received no intimation of all these movements 
till they were completed. In a moment the drums 
beat to arms, while far in the distance was heard the 
report of cannon. Washington, from his camp, had 
discovered the advance of the British almost as soon 
as Lafayette, and .filled with anxiety for the flower 
of his troops, ordered alarm-guns to be fired, and 
the whole army to stand to their arms. He himself, 
with several of his officers, ascended a hill, and gazed 
anxiously through his glass towards the Schuylkill. 
But Lafayette was already in motion. His quick 
eye took in at a glance the extent of the danger that 
surrounded him, and he immediately adopted the 
only course that could have saved him. The enemy 
was in force in front, and the ford in his rear, which 
lay on the direct road to Valley Forge, was too 
strongly defended to be attacked. The other ford 
alone remained to him, the road to which was com- 



MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 255 

manded by Grant, with five thousand veteran troops. 
On this, however, he boldly and rapidly marched. 
But to deceive the British officer, he sent out small 
detachments to manoeuvre in a piece of woods in 
front of him, as if his purpose was not to reach the 
ford, but assail his position. False heads of columns 
were organized, which, protruding themselves 
through the trees, caused Grant to suppose the whole 
American army was advancing against him ; and so, 
instead of cutting ofif Lafayette's line of march, he 
halted where he was, and formed in order of battle. 
In the meantime Lafayette, covered by the woods, 
kept swiftly and noiselessly on his way, passing di- 
rectly beneath the hill, on which his enemy was 
posted; and, while the latter was wondering why 
those columns, the heads of which he had seen, did 
not advance — reached the ford in safety. These 
sham columns then hastily retreated, and joined the 
main army ; and Washington saw with inexpressible 
delight, his boy-general, whom he loved, draw up his 
troops in order of battle on the side of the river op- 
posite the enemy. He had extricated himself with 
consummate ability, losing only nine men in all, and 
even for these making the enemy pay nearly double. 
This small affair gave him great reputation as a 
skilful and self-collected officer. 

He arrived the same day at Valley Forge, and 
was received with shouts and huzzas — while the 
English Army marched sullenly back to Phila- 
delphia.* 

*A curious incident occurred in the morning when the 
pickets of the two armies first ci^me together. Fifty English 
dragoons suddenly came upon fifty Indians belonging to the 



256 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

About this time Lafayette received the news of 
the death of his oldest daughter, which afflicted him 
deeply. 

In the following month occurred the battle of 
Monmouth, in the description of which, in a pre- 
ceding sketch, I have spoken of the generosity of 
Lafayette, in giving up his command to Lee, at the 
request of the latter. Had he retained it, there is 
but little doubt that a signal victory would have been 
won. But being a subordinate in command, he was 
compelled to obey the vacillating orders of this un- 
certain man. While Lee was manoeuvring in front 
of the enemy — now directing Lafayette to advance, 
and now to retreat, the latter saw a party of British 
troops on the right flank, so far advanced from the 
main body, that he thought it could easily be cut off, 
and galloping up to Lee, asked permission to attack 
it. " Sir," said the latter, *' you do not know Brit- 
ish soldiers ; we cannot stand against them ; we shall 
certainly be driven back at first, and we must be 
cautious." Lafayette replied, ''It may be so; but 
British soldiers have been beaten, and it is to be pre- 
sumed they may be again — at all events, I zvoitld like 
to make the trial/' He was forbidden, however, and 
Lee began that shameful retreat, which robbed us of 
our victory, and well-nigh secured our ruin. 

When the burning sun of that terrible day disap- 
peared behind the western hills, and the exhausted 

American army, lying in ambush. The savages, frightened at 
the presence of the horsemen, suddenly started up, and giving 
one terrific yell, fled like deer. The dragoons, equally af- 
righted by this unexpected apparition, also turned and fled, 
never stopping till they reached Philadelphia. 



MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 257 

armies sunk on the scorching earth, young Lafayette 
lay down beside Washington, and the tired chieftain 
wrapped him affectionately in his own mantle. For 
a while they lay awake, and talked over the events of 
the day, and especially the conduct of Lee, until at 
length, overtasked nature gave way, and the two 
heroes and patriots slept. 

The French fleet arriving in July, and a descent on 
Rhode Island being resolved upon, Lafayette was 
sent with two brigades, to the aid of Sullivan. He 
used all the means in his power to induce the French 
admiral to remain and co-operate in the attack, but 
in vain; and when the latter sailed for Boston, to 
refit, repaired thither himself, by land. While there, 
hearing that Sullivan had been attacked, he immedi- 
ately started off, and travelling ten miles an hour, 
for eight hours, arrived in time to bring off the rear- 
guard to the main land. 

For the untiring efforts he put forth on this occa- 
sion, and especially for the service he rendered, as 
mediator between the offended admiral and our gov- 
ernment, he received the warmest thanks of both 
Congress and Washington. The former, through 
its president, Laurens, sent him its acknowledg- 
ments. The reply of Lafayette was frank, and full 
of feeling. In it occurs the following sentence, 
which must endear him to every American. " The 
moment I heard of America, I loved her; the mo- 
ment I knew she zvas fighting for freedom, I hiirned 
with a desire of bleeding for her; and the moment I 
shall he able to serve her, at any time, or in any part 
of the world, will he the happiest one of my life." 

A. B., VOL. III. — 17 



2 58 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

Soon after this, he challenged Lord Carlisle, presi- 
dent of the Board of British Commis'sioners, for 
having said, in his correspondence with Congress, 
that France, in her alliance with us, was "guilty of 
perfidy," &c. Washington endeavored to dissuade 
him from this act, but the latter felt that his nation 
was insulted, and as one of her representatives here, 
he ought to resent it. The challenge was declined, 
and Lafayette afterwards confessed that he had done 
wrong. 

Having now been in the country fifteen months, 
he wished to return home to visit his family, as well 
as obtain more aid for the country of his adoption. 
Fortified with letters from Congress, and bearing 
testimonials of the esteem and parental love of 
Washington, he star'ted for Boston. But at Fishkill 
he was seized with a fever, wbich prostrated him for 
three weeks, and for a while threatened seriously 
his life. 

At length, after many delays, he set sail on the 
nth of January, 1779, in the frigate Alliance, which 
had been assigned him by Congress. He had, hov/- 
ever, escaped from sickness only to encounter still 
greater danger. On the banks of Newfoundland a 
fearful storm overtook them, which partially dis- 
masted the vessel, and left her half-filled with water. 
They were scarcely out of this before another arose. 
The English and Irish sailors, who had been engaged 
in Boston, formed a conspiracy to murder the pas- 
sengers, and, seizing the vessel, carry her into an 
English port. The plot was discovered only an hour 
before the time fixed upon for putting it into 
execution. 



MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 259 

On his arrival in France, Lafayette was banished 
from the court, because he had presumed to leave the 
kingdom in disobedience of the orders of govern- 
ment. Eight days, however, served to dissipate the 
royal displeasure. The queen, Maria Antoinette, 
immediately took a deep interest in him, and he be- 
came the talk, and favorite of the city. Everybody 
spoke of his enthusiasm — his devotion to liberty, and 
his chivalric feelings. The queen procured for him 
the command of a regiment of the king's dragoons ; 
and was so struck with his enthusiastic love for 
Washington, that she afterwards remarked to Dr. 
Franklin : ''Do you know, doctor, that Lafayette 
has really made me in love with your General Wash- 
ington ? What a man he must be, and what a friend 
he possesses in the Marquis." 

In the meantime he planned a descent on the west 
coast of England — the land forces to be under his 
command, and the fleet under that of Paul Jones. 
It was, however, abandoned ; and he then turned all 
his efforts to obtain aid for America. He spent his 
own fortune as freely as water ; and at length by his 
unwearied efforts and sacrifices, obtained twelve bat- 
talions of infantry — in all six thousand men, with a 
proportionate artillery force — and six ships-of-the- 
line, together with the requisite number of trans- 
ports. These were the troops who pressed so gal- 
lantly, with us, the siege of Yorktown. 

Having accomplished this, he set sail himself to 
join the American army as one of its officers. 
When he arrived in Boston, all the bells of the town 
were set ringing— salvos of cannon were fired, and 



260 . AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

shouts and acclamations followed him on his way to 
the house of President Hancock. Hastening on to 
head-quarters, Washington received him with open 
arms, and embraced him as a son, and the whole 
army shouted, " Long live Lafayette/' Remain- 
ing here but a few days, he hurried to Philadelphia 
to confer with Congress — greeted everywhere with 
acclamations. He was the people's friend — and 
tears of joy fell at the mention of his name. 

The fleet at length arrived, and he was sent to 
Newport to receive it; and a campaign began to 
open, which promised scenes of stirring interest. 
After several demonstrations on the part of the 
French and British — of the latter against Newport, 
and the former on New York — resulting in nothing 
— Lafayette repaired to head-quarters, and took 
command of a corps of light infantry, numbering 
two thousand men, who had been selected from the 
different regiments, on purpose for him. They were 
fine-looking soldiers, but without clothing. The 
Marquis, proud of them, furnished the entire corps 
with uniforms at his own expense; and presented 
every officer in it with a sword, and the separate bat- 
talions with standards. The first time they were 
reviewed in their new dress, and under their gay 
standards, they presented a splendid appearance ; and 
were a body of troops, of Which any commander 
might be proud. Lafayette's eye ran along their 
lines with delight, and he seemed willing to take the 
very coat from his back for their benefit. This af- 
fection was returned, for he was idolized by the 
whole corps. 



MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 26 I 

While Washington was thus hovering around 
New York, and the French were blockaded in New- 
port, news arived of the utter rout of Gates at 
Camden. 

Lafayette was annoyed exceedingly by the inac- 
tivity which marked the campaign, and again and 
again besought Washington to let him attack some 
of the more northern posts of the English at New 
York; but that skilful commander knew that the 
hour for striking had not yet arrived — and at length 
the army went into winter-quarters, and the fine 
corps of the Marquis was disbanded. 

The next year, however, a great part of it was re- 
organized and put under its old commander, who 
was ordered to Virginia, to repel the invasion of 
Arnold. Of the failure of the attempt to take the 
traitor, and the return of Lafayette, I have already 
spoken in my sketch of Steuben. His whole man- 
agement in this expedition was excellent. But when 
Cornwallis directed his steps North, the Marquis was 
again ordered in all haste to the South. The sol- 
diers, however, were averse to going, and began to 
desert in such numbers, that his army threatened to 
dwindle to a mere handful. In this dilemma he ap- 
pealed to the honor of his troops, saying, " they had 
been ordered against a superior enemy — that the 
confidence of the government in their patriotism and 
virtue, their general, at least, would not violate— 
and was determined to mardh against the enemy. 
As for them," he said, " they need not desert— he 
would save them that disgrace and crime— and those 
who wished to leave, had only to apply to head- 



262 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

quarters for a pass, and it should be granted." 
Strange as it may seem, this checked entirely deser- 
tion. Lafayette sympathized with the distressed 
condition of his troops; and unable to obtain any 
supplies from government, borrowed ten thousand 
dollars from the merchants of Baltimore on his own 
credit, all of which he expended in shirts and shoes, 
&c., for the soldiers. Murmuring and complaints, 
gave place to enthusiasm and love; and his little 
army closed round him like a band of brothers. Ad- 
vancing south he reached Richmond, and drove Gen- 
eral Philips down the river. This officer dying, the 
command devolved on Arnold, who sent a letter to 
Lafayette — ^but the latter refused to hold any cor- 
respondence with a traitor. 

Cornwallis finally effected a junction with Arnold, 
and the Marquis was compelled to retreat. Then 
commenced a series of brilliant manoeuvres, which 
did infinite credit to the generalship of the young 
commander. Cornwallis had been driven about by 
Greene, like a man wandering in his sleep, but he 
now supposed himself in front of a different antag- 
onist, and wrote, saying, " the boy cannot escape 
me'' But the boy did escape him, retiring slowly 
before the overwhelming force pressing upon him, 
and watching every movement with a vigilance noth- 
ing could elude. 

At length Cornwallis advanced towards Albemarle 
courthouse, in order to destroy the magazines placed 
there for the Southern army. Lafayette penetrated 
his plans, but was unable, from the feebleness of his 
force, to thw'art them. But at this critical juncture, 



MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 263 

Wayne arrived with his corps of Pennsylvanians, 
which emboldened him to make an attempt to save 
the magazines. Taking a cross road, he suddenly 
threw himself in front of the British commander, 
prepared, inferior though he was in numbers^ to give 
him battle. The latter, seeing his antagonist strong- 
ly posted, and being made aware of the reinforce- 
ments he had received, declined the offered engage- 
ment, and began to retreat. Lafayette immediately 
gave chase, and overtaking his rear-guard at Wil- 
liamsburgh, killed and wounded a hundred and sixty 
men, with the loss to himself of less than forty. 
Thus for a hundred miles did he pursue Cornwallis, 
and by his boldness and apparent eagerness for an 
engagement, effectually blind him as to the real 
strength of his army. Fooled into a disastrous re- 
treat, the British commander kept retiring till he 
came to Jamestown, where occurred the gallant 
charge of Wayne, with merely a detachment, on the 
whole English army. When, from the heavy firing, 
Lafayette, who was in the rear with the main body, 
was made aware of the danger of Wayne, he came 
on a swift gallop to his aid, and, with his usual reck- 
lessness of his life, and deaf to the remonstrances 
of his officers, spurred where the volleys were heavi- 
est, and had two horses shot under him. 

He at length forced Cornwallis into Yot^k, where 
he entrenched himself. The plan was then formed 
to hem him in seaward with the French fleet, while 
Washington, at the head of the allied army, should 
hasten to form a junction with Lafayette. But it 
was necessary, in the meantime, that " the boy " 



264 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

should keep the old soldier he had so completely 
outwitted, shut up in his retreat, until these forces 
could be transported South. Cornwallis saw his 
danger, and at one time thought seriously of retreat- 
ing into North Carolina, which he could have done. 
But Lafayette, by his extraordinary exertions, suc- 
ceeded in keeping him at bay. He called in the 
militia to guard all the passages, and had his spies in 
the very heart of the English camp.* 

The siege and capture of Yorktown followed. 
During its progress, it was necessary to storm two 
redoubts. The attacks on both were to be made 
simultaneously — that of the right being intrusted to 
Lafayette, at the head of American troops, and the 
one on the left to the Baron Viomenil, with four 



* Sparks relates an anecdote received from Lafayette too 
good to be omitted. The Marquis wished to send a spy into 
the English army, not only to obtain information, but deceive 
the commander; and Morgan, a Jerseyman, was pointed out 
to him as a proper person. The brave soldier was ready for 
any peril for his country, but he hated the character of a spy. 
He did not care for his life, he said, but for his name. At 
length, receiving a solemn promise that if he was hung a full 
account of the matter should be published in the New Jersey 
papers, he consented, and went over to the enemy. Cornwallis 
soon sent for him, and in the presence of Tarleton, asked what 
means Lafayette had of crossing James river. He replied, that 
he had boats sufficient to transport his whole army across at a 
moment's warning. Cornwallis, turning to Tarleton, said, 
" In that case, what 1 said to you cannot be done ;" referring 
evidently to the proiected retreat south. At length, one day, 
after the arrival of the fleet, Lafayette found in his quarters 
six men dressed in the English uniform. Morgan had re- 
turned, bringing five deserters and a prisoner with him. The 
brave fellow was offered the rank of sergeant for his behavior, 
but he refused it, as he did every other offer. The only favor 
he would ask was the restoration of his gun, which had been 
lost during his absence. It was found and returned to him. 



MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 265 

hundred French grenadiers. The French officer, in 
speaking of it, intimated that the Americans were 
not so good as French troops for work of this kind, 
to which Lafayette simply repHed : " We shall see/' 
At length the storming parties were arranged, Col- 
onel Hamilton leading the van of that under the 
Marquis. The signal to advance was to be two 
shells fired— one from the American and the other 
from the French battery. First the shell arose from 
the American battery, and the moment the flaming 
missile reached the zenith, that of the French 
mounted the heavens, and then the shout '' advance," 
rang along the steady columns. Hamilton, in his 
headlong courage, never waited for the abatis to be 
removed, but rushing over it, mounted the parapet 
with only three men by his side. Gazing back one 
moment on his crowding followers, with his sword 
waving over his head, he summoned them on, and 
then leaped into the ditch. With a loud and thrill- 
ing shout, the brave fellows stormed after their in- 
trepid leader, who still far in advance, was for a mo- 
ment lost sight of, and thought to have fallen. But 
he was soon seen in the centre of the redoubt, form- 
ing his men. Not a shot had been fired— the naked 
steel had done it all, and in nine minutes' time. The 
Americans carried their redoubt first, and Lafayette 
remembering what Viomenil had said, sent him word 
that he had succeeded, and asked if the aid of the 
Americans was not needed. The latter replied, 
" Tell Lafayette that I have not yet carried my re- 
doubt, but shall do so in five minutes." He made 
good his word. 



266 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

After the capitulation of Yorktown, Lafayette 
again returned to France, loaded with eulogies from 
Washington and Congress. The French king of- 
fered him the rank of field-marshal in his army, and 
honors clustered thick around the youthful brows of 
the noble champion of liberty. 

In the meantime a powerful armament was fitting 
out in France and Spain in our behalf, and Lafayette 
was appointed chief of the staff of the combined 
armies. But England, at length, reluctantly con- 
sented to acknowledge our independence — and gave 
up her vast possessions, which had cost her so much 
treasure and blood. When the Marquis first heard 
the news of it, he despatched a vessel, the Triumph, 
to bring it to this country. He wished to accompany 
it — to be himself the bearer of the glad tidings, and 
mingle his joy with that of a ransomed people; but 
the Spanish court having refused to receive our 
charge, Mr. Carmichael, he hastened to Madrid to 
reconcile the difficulties, and in a few days succeeded 
in putting things on the most amicable footing. 
Thus, ever ready to sacrifice his own feelings or 
pleasure for America, he undertook this unpleasant 
journey, instead of coming to our arms, to be be- 
dewed with our tears, and covered with our bless- 
ings. Washington, in an affectionate letter to him, 
says, " Your going to Madrid from thence,* instead 
of coming immediately to this country, is another 
instance, my dear Marquis, of your zeal for the 
American cause ; and lays a fresh claim to the grati- 

* Referring to Cadiz, where he was superintending the prep- 
arations of the new armament fitting out for our relief. 



MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 267 

tude of her sons, who will always receive you with 
open arms." 

In 1784, Lafayette, anxious once more to see 
Washington, again embarked for this country. He 
was received with every mark of respect, and pressed 
with invitations in every city — but in eleven days 
after his arrival he was in the arms of Washington 
at Mount Vernon. He remained at the latter place 
fourteen days ; and the intercourse of these two noble 
and affectionate men, must ever remain one of those 
touching incidents which are never revealed to the 
common gaze. They had pressed shoulder to shoul- 
der together through the battle — slept in the same 
cloak on the dreadful field of Monmouth — had suf- 
fered and rejoiced together — and now they stood 
side by side, and gazed on the land they had freed ; 
and saw, with the joy patriots only know, a happy 
people reposing under the tree of liberty. 

He arrived in this country in August, and having 
visited his old battle-fields, and traversed a large part 
of the country, set sail again in December, for 
France. 

His farewell to Congress was impressive. That 
body had passed a resolution, expressing the grati- 
tude and affection of this country for him. He 
closed up his reply with, " May this immense temple 
of freedom ever stand as a lesson to oppressors, an 
example for the oppressed, a sanctuary for the rights 
of mankind! and, may these happy United States 
attain that complete splendor and prosperity, which 
will illustrate the blessings of their government ; and, 
for ages to come, rejoice the departed souls of their 



268 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

founders." Washington accompanied him as far as 
AnnapoHs, and afterwards wrote him a farewell 
letter, full of simplicity and affection — and it is hard 
to say, whether it honors him or Lafayette most. 

After his return, he labored arduously to establish 
such commercial regulations for us, as would be for 
our own advantage ; and never lost sight of our wel- 
fare or interest. 

In 1785 he visited Austria, Prussia, and Germany; 
and was everywhere received, by monarchs and no- 
bles, with the highest honors. Frederic the Great 
presented him with his miniature, set in diamonds 
— complimenting him on his distinguished services 
in America, and, at the same time, expressing his 
great admiration of Washington. 

I cannot give an account of his efforts for the 
emancipation of the blacks, in which he was seconded 
by Washington, Patrick Henry, Laurens, Jefferson, 
and others, nor of the interest he took in the cause 
of the French Protestants. Hating despotism 
whether it took the form of unjust taxation, domes- 
tic slavery, or religious intolerance — he showed 
throughout that he had been in the school of Wash- 
ington, and lived respected by all. 

But now he was destined to enter upon a new scene 
— on a succession of tragedies never before enacted 
on this earth — the French Revolution. It is impos- 
sible to go into an account of this terrific event, or 
trace out its causes. France, burdened with debt, 
taxed to death, and starving, needed help, and an 
assembly of Notables was convoked, to deliberate on 
the means to be adopted. Of this Lafayette was a 



MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE ^69 

member, and boldly taking ground for reform in 
every department of government, moved, among 
other things, the convocation of the States General 
— which consisted of representatives from the three 
orders — the nobility, clergy, and untitled middle 
classes. This extraordinary body assembled, and the 
great struggle commenced. The Commons wished 
the three orders to constitute one assembly, to which 
the haughty clergy and nobility refused their assent. 
Lafayette, though one of the nobles, sustained man- 
fully the request of the tiers etat, or lower order. 
Months passed away in this contest, until at last the 
Commons resolved to constitute themselves the Na- 
tional Assembly of France, and did so. 

This was the first revolution. The Marquis then 
boldly separated himself from the nobility, and 
joined the Assembly, of which he was soon after 
chosen vice-president. The famous '' declaration of 
rights," which is a mere epitome of our Declaration 
of Independence, was presented by him, and France 
moved tumultuously towards a republic. He sat in 
the Assembly at Versailles on that terrible night, 
when the attack upon it by the troops was expected 
— firmly resolved to fall at his post. In the mean- 
time, the Bastile fell, and the great key of that 
stronghold was sent by him to Washington. 

In the midst of this gathering of the elements, La- 
fayette, by permission of the king, organized the Na- 
tional Guard, and placed upon them the " tri-colored 
cockade." In announcing the event to the Assembly, 
he made the following remarkable declaration : 
" Gentlemen, I bring you a cockade which shall make 



2/0 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

the tour of the world ; and an institution at once civic 
and mihtary, which shall change the system of Euro- 
pean tactics, and reduce all absolute governments to 
the alternative of being beaten if they do not imitate 
it, or of being overthrown if they dare oppose it." 
Bold prophecy, half of which has already been ful- 
filled. With this guard he succeeded in restoring 
partial order in the city — but the torrent was only 
arrested, not dried up. Women, beating drums 
through the streets and crying " bread," thrilled 
every heart, and rolled into wilder motion the already 
excited passions of the people. 

STORMING OF VERSAILLES 

From May till October, had the national repre- 
sentatives struggled to save France. Met at every 
turn by the court and aristocracy, surrounded with 
obstacles their enemies had constantly thrown in 
their path, and compelled to spend months on the 
plainest principles of human liberty and justice, they 
had been utterly unable to relieve the public distress. 
For this they were not to blame, but the selfish, blind, 
higher orders. Everything had been compelled to 
wait but famine. That had never wavered nor fal- 
tered, but, with ever-increasing proportions and 
frightful mien, had stalked over the land, turning 
women into tigers, and men into fiends. 

Suddenly there is a strange and confused uproar 
on the road from Paris to Versailles. An army of 
women is on the march for the king's palace. All 
efforts to disband them have been powerless; and 



MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 2/1 

Lafayette, after attempting in vain to keep back the 
National Guard of 30,000 men, who demand with 
loud cries to accompany them, is compelled to yield, 
and they too go thundering along the road. Armed 
with pikes, hatchets, and sticks pointed with iron, 
this motley crowd march on foot through the drench- 
ing rain, measuring the weary leagues with aching 
limbs, and at length stream around the magnificent 
palace of Versailles. Wild faces look out from dis- 
hevelled hair, and haggard features, more fearful 
than the swaying pikes, move amid this confusion of 
sexes and hurricane of passion. With eyes upturned 
to where their monarch dwells, they suddenly shriek 
out in wild concord, "Bread!" God in heaven! 
what a cry from women to their king! Regardless 
of the falling rain and approaching night, and their 
toilsome journey, those strange faces are still turned 
to him who alone can relieve their distress. At 
length, twelve are conducted as deputies, into the 
presence of the king. One, young and beautiful, 
overwhelmed at her own boldness, in thus approach- 
ing her monarch, can only faintly utter the word 
'' bread, and swoons at his feet." Here was woe, 
here was suffering, sufficient to bring tears from 
stones. 

Bread was ordered to be distributed to this fam- 
ished multitude, but was not, and they wandered 
about searching in vain for means to alleviate their 
hunger, till at length they came upon a dead horse, 
and began in savage ferocity to tear out his entrails, 
and devour his flesh. Tumult was again abroad, and 
shots were fired from the palace on the crowd, which 



272 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

rush in return up the marble steps, and stream 
through the royal apartments, demanding blood. 
But the adored Lafayette is seen moving amid the 
multitude, and the storm is stayed, and the king is 
saved. All night long he moved about amid the dis- 
orderly crew, to calm their excitement; and at five 
o'clock, lay down with his clothes on to snatch a mo- 
ment's repose. But the first fierce shout brought him 
to his feet, and, springing on the first horse he found, 
he burst in a furious gallop among the mob, who 
were butchering the Life Guards. Having rescued 
them and sent them away, he suddenly found him- 
self alone in presence of one of the murderers, who 
was aiming his carbine at him. Undismayed, La- 
fayette ordered the culprit to be brought to him. 
The awe-struck mob obeyed, and seizing him, dashed 
out his brains on the pavement. He then hastened 
to the palace, and the Life Guards, whom he had 
saved, received him with shouts of " Lafayette for- 
ever." Leading the king forth upon the balcony, he 
presented him, and afterwards the queen, to the peo- 
ple, kissing her majesty's hand in their presence, 
while "Vive la Reine!" ''Vive Lafayette!" rent 
the air. The next morning, the shout, '' To Paris ! " 
was heard, and Louis was compelled, with his family, 
to take this wild escort to the capital. The tiger was 
changed into the fiend. The excitement of the day 
before — the hunger and murder of the night, and 
the strange spectacle of the morning, had completely 
unsettled what little reason the rabble had left, and 
the procession they form for the king — their furious 
shouts and bacchanalian songs, and disorderly move- 



MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 2/3 

nient as they carry a gory head aloft on a pike, mak- 
ing it nod and bow to the multitude in grim saluta- 
tion, are enough to appall the stoutest heart. King- 
ship is ended — reverence is gone, and all after-re- 
spect and loyalty will be but the spasmodic flame of 
the dying lamp — Vive le roi! Vive le nation! Vive 
Lafayette! are alike incoherent and trustless. But 
fondly believing that France could follow in the steps 
of America, the intrepid Lafayette moved at the head 
of his faithful troops, preserving order, and guiding 
with his steady hand the car of the revolution to- 
wards a safe goal. 

At length a confederation of the entire realm was 
resolved upon; to take place on the anniversary of 
the overthrow of the Bastile. 

SCENE IN THE CHAMP DE MARS 

The world never exhibited such a scene as the 
Field of Mars presented, previous to, and at this 
grand celebration. An area of three hundred thou- 
sand square feet was to be scooped out, and fitted up 
with balconies, seats, &c. ; while a grand altar, on a 
base twenty feet high, was to be erected in the centre. 
There were but fifteen days, in which to make all this 
preparation, and fifteen thousand men were therefore 
set to work. A mighty army toiled on that open 
field; but their united efforts were soon seen to be 
insufiicient to complete the work in time. The ex- 
cited populace, determined not to be disappointed, 
and carried away by an enthusiasm, as sudden as it 
was fearful, then volunteered their labor. In a mo- 

A. B., VOL. III.— l8 



274 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

ment that enthusiasm became madness; and from 
every quarter came streaming the shouting, singing 
multitude. Young girls, with green boughs, and 
tri-color streamers, marched at the head of columns 
of men with spades and pickaxes on their shoulders, 
singing as they advanced. Beautiful women, throw- 
ing aside their hats and shawls, seized the wheelbar- 
rows, and with dishevelled locks, toiled on beside the 
brawny laborers — gay young men stripped to the 
task — whole families dashed into the area — the great, 
the noble, and the learned came, and shouted and 
heaved away, till a hundred and fifty thousand of all 
ages, and sexes, and conditions, were gathered in one 
mighty throng, working and singing on in the July 
sun. The whole city turned out — advocates and 
judges — nuns from the convent, with singers from 
the opera seized the spade or barrow ; and amid the 
deafening strain of Ca ira — the work went bravely 
on. " Beautifullest Hebes, the loveliest in Paris, in 
their light air-robes, with ribbon girdles of tri-color, 
are there; — shovelling and wheeling with the rest; 
their Hebe-eyes brightening with enthusiasm, and 
long hair, in beautiful dishevelment — hard pressed 
are their small fingers; but they make the patriot 
barrow go, and even force it to the summit of the 
slope, (with a little tracing which, what man's arm 
were not too happy to lend?) then bound down with 
it again, and go for more ; with their long locks and 
tri-colors blown back — graceful as the rosy hours."* 
Lafayette came and looked on ; and the king, at last, 
carried away by this whirlwind of feeling, also 
* Vide Carlyle's " French Revolution." 



MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 275 

comes, and spades are lifted on high, and ** Vive le 
roi " rends the air. 

Such was the scene which the last night previous 
to the grand celebration, presented; and never did 
the setting sun throw his farewell beams on a 
stranger spectacle. Paris was mad, crazy; and the 
whole population in a frenzy of excitement. But, 
at length, the crowd began slowly to retire to their 
homes, and the Champ de Mars was deserted. The 
next morning the multitude again assembled, in their 
gayest apparel; and soon three hundred thousand 
men and women crowded that vast amphitheatre. 
A hundred thousand men accompanied Lafayette 
and the king in joyful procession. 

Mounted on a splendid white charger, the Marquis 
enters this spacious area, with sixty thousand troops ; 
while the braying of trumpets, and shouts of ten 
times ten thousand voices, make the very heavens 
reel. Three hundred priests stand at the four cor- 
ners of the altar, and celebrate mass, amid the peal- 
ing of trumpets and thunder of cannon. A sudden 
silence succeeds the uproar, and the deep breathing 
of that vast throng, is like the sigh of the sea. La- 
fayette then moves forward, and is borne from his 
steed on the shoulders of grenadiers, to the altar, and 
placing the point of his sword upon it, swears to 
defend the constitution to the last. The thunder of 
artillery, and shouts of the people answer. The 
king then advances, and with the queen in the back- 
ground, holding her infant son in her arms, repeats 
the solemn oath. A thousand standards are lowered 
at once — the cannon again roar forth their stern ap- 



2/6 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

proval; and such a shout goes up, as never before 
shook the earth — " France is free! " rings out on 
every side, and universal joy fills the heart of the 
nation. 

Lafayette was greater than the king on this day; 
and every eye looked to him as the saviour of his 
country. 

It is impossible, in this brief sketch, to follow him 
through all the scenes of the revolution. Firm — 
mild — his integrity undoubted, and his republicanism 
unquestioned, he moved for awhile like an ark of 
safety, amid this sudden and fearful deluge. At the 
head of his thirty-thousand troops, he carried more 
authority with him than the king or Assembly. 

The next year a revolt broke out in the Champ de 
Mars, which he no sooner heard of, than he marched 
to quell it with twelve hundred grenadiers. On his 
way, a traitor in the ranks fired a pistol at him, but 
missed his aim. When he came up to the crowd, he 
ordered them to disperse, but only received a shower 
of stones in reply. Firing a volley over their heads 
with no better success, he ordered a volley point- 
blank, which brought down a hundred men, and dis- 
persed the rest. These energetic measures awed the 
insurgents, and had they been followed up, would 
have prevented the reign of terror. But unsustained 
by the royal authority, he could not carry out the 
measures he knew to be indispensable to the safety 
of France, and so the revolution went rolling for- 
ward to that awful gulf into which it at last sunk. 

At the close of the constituent Assembly, he re- 
signed his command of the National Guard, and 



MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 277 

retired to private life. But when tlie war broke out 
with Austria, he was appointed one of the three 
commanders of the French army, and hastened to the 
frontiers on the Rhine. All this time he kept up a 
constant correspondence with Washington. 

While he was here straining every nerve to save 
the honor of the French army, he heard of that dis- 
gusting scene enacted by thirty thousand men and 
women in the hall of the Assembly, and the after 
insult offered to the king in the Tuileries ; and imme- 
diately hastened to Paris. Denouncing the Jacobins, 
the authors of these outrages, he made one more des- 
perate effort to save the revolution; and earnestly 
besought the king to let him break up the Jacobin 
club, that nest of vipers. But his request was re- 
fused, and the besotted monarch, too proud to re- 
sign, and too weak to rule, let this mob power have 
way, till it usurped the government. Lafayette then 
attempted to save the royal family, offering to con- 
duct them out of the kingdom. They refusing his 
generous proposal, he hastened back to the army, 
determined to wait the issue of things. He saw 
clearly the tempest that was gathering, but knew it 
was now too late to arrest it. He had done all 
he could, and but for the imbecile king, would have 
saved all. 

Soon after the insurrection of the loth of August 
took place; the Tuileries ran blood, and amid the 
storm and terror of that day, the Bourbon dynasty 
closed. The Jacobins seized the reins of govern- 
ment, and immediately sent commissioners to the 
army, announcing the change in affairs. But La- 



278 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

fayette would not receive them, and ordered them to 
be imprisoned. He was in turn accused as a traitor, 
and measures set on foot to arrest him. Deserted by 
his associate generals, and seeing that the army was 
going also, he determined to abandon France and 
seek an asylum in this country, where liberty could 
be enjoyed without anarchy. But being seized on his 
way by the Austrian authorities, he was treated as a 
prisoner of war. It is true, the magnanimous des- 
pots of Austria and Prussia offered him freedom if 
he would renounce his republican principles. Refus- 
ing to do this, he was cast into a dungeon, and after 
being tossed about from prison to prison, by those 
royal villains — who, destitute alike of honor or of 
truth, coolly covered themselves with infamy in pres- 
ence of the civilized world — was transferred to the 
gloomy dungeons of Olmutz, in Austria. Of the 
sympathy this act of atrocity awakened in the bosoms 
of all true men — of the efforts of Washington and 
other Americans in his behalf, and the noble devotion 
of his wife, who shared his imprisonment, I shall say 
nothing. The noble attempt made by J. Errick Boll- 
man, a German physician, and Francis Huger, son 
of Colonel Huger, of South Carolina, at whose house 
Lafayette was first received on his arrival in this 
country, have rendered their names immortal. These 
men of heroic virtue, were thrown into prison for 
their bold and well-nigh successful effort, where they 
languished for eight months. After their release, 
they still exerted themselves in behalf of Lafayette, 
though without success. 

In the meantime, the young Napoleon had 



MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 279 

mounted to power, and was rolling the revolutionary 
earthquake under the thrones of Europe. He smote 
Austria hip and thigh in Italy; and at the peace of 
Leoben, made one of the chief stipulations, the re- 
lease of Lafayette from imprisonment. With much 
reluctance it was acceded to, though the perfidious 
government endeavored first to make their prisoner 
promise to go to America, never to return. This the 
indignant patriot firmly refused to do, even to ter- 
minate his long imprisonment. The king delaying 
and deferring, young Bonaparte gave him to under- 
stand in the most peremptory manner, that unless the 
Marquis was immediately released, he would soon 
hear the thunder of his cannon. This argument was 
understood ; and Lafayette, after having suffered fLvc 
years a close and cruel confinement, was at length 
permitted to go abroad. This first effort of Napo- 
leon's power, does him more honor than his victories. 
After his release, Lafayette went first to Holstein, 
and afterwards to Holland; where he remained till 
the revolution, which made Napoleon First Consul 
for life; and then, under his mighty aegis, returned to 
France, and received his old rank in the army. He 
was attached to the First Consul, and well he might 
be, for he owed him liberty, and the restoration to 
his old honors and home. Still he was not a person 
to sympathize with the fierce tempestuous character 
that was to upset the world ; and Bonaparte felt that 
Lafayette was a man of a past age, and could effect 
nothing in carrying out his stupendous plans. Never- 
theless, he revered his virtues, and endeavored to 
bind him to his interests, but the latter gradually re- 



2 8o AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

tired to private life ; and when the former began his 
rapid strides towards supreme power, wrote him a 
plain kind letter, asking for guaranties of the liberties 
of the people. This letter was never answered, and 
the writer was well-nigh forgotten in the wondrous 
events that succeeded. In the retirement of La 
Grange he listened to the thunder and tumult that 
accompanied Napoleon's progress; saw the century- 
bound despotisms of Europe shaking, like cedars in 
a tempest as his mighty hand swept over them, and 
heard the sound of falling thrones, with feelings of 
mingled wonder and distrust. It seemed a strange 
dream through which he had passed — from the 
bright dawnings of liberty, his country had sunk into 
the darkest night that ever shrouded a nation, and 
then suddenly risen into a vast empire, from whose 
presence the world shrank in dismay. It was natural, 
in this confusion of all things at home, he should 
turn his thoughts to the peaceful Republic he had 
helped to rear on this side of the water. He made 
known his intentions to Washington, but political 
considerations induced the latter to request him to 
defer his visit, and he continued to live in retirement. 
But when Jefferson became president, he offered him 
the governorship of Louisiana, which was declined. 
At length the star of Napoleon went down; but 
before the nation had time to compose itself, it rose 
again on the troubled world. At his second assump- 
tion of imperial power, Bonaparte endeavored to win 
Lafayette over to his interests, but the latter stub- 
bornly refused to accept a seat in his new Chamber of 
Peers — preferring to act as one of the deputies. 



MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 28 I 

After the battle of Waterloo, he took strong 
ground against the emperor ; and was one of those 
who procured his abdication. Mindful, however, of 
his former kindness to him, when a prisoner at 
Olmutz, he endeavored to stipulate for his personal 
safety and liberty. At the restoration of the Bour- 
bons, he solemnly warned them against any attempts 
to revive old despotisms ; but his warnings were un- 
heeded, and he again sunk into private life, a victim 
to his integrity and unyielding patriotism. 

HIS LAST VISIT TO THIS COUNTRY 

Again, in his old age, Lafayette determined to look 
on the young Republic that had escaped the disasters 
which had overwhelmed France. When his plans 
were made known, our government offered to place 
a national vessel at his disposal ; but he declined ac- 
cepting it, and embarked at Havre in a merchant- 
man, and arrived at New York, August 15, 1824. 
He was at this time sixty-seven years old. 

His reception in this country, and triumphal march 
through it, is one of the most remarkable events in 
the history of the world. Such gratitude and un- 
bounded affection were never before received by a 
man from a foreign nation. As he passed from 
Staten Island to New York, the bay was covered 
with gay barges decorated with streamers ; and when 
the beautiful fleet shoved away, the bands struck up, 
'' Oil pcut-on etre mieux, qiiaii scin de sa famillef "" 
— " Where can one better be, than in the bosom of 
his family?" Never did this favorite French air 



282 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

seem so appropriate — not even when the shattered 
Old Guard closed sternly around its Emperor, and 
sang it amid the fire of the enemy's guns — as when 
a free people thus chanted it around the venerable 
Lafayette. As he touched the shore, the thunder of 
cannon shook the city — old soldiers rushed weeping 
into his arms; and, '' Welcome, Lafayette! " waved 
from every banner, rung from every trumpet, and 
was caught up by every voice, till " welcome, wel- 
come! " rose and fell in deafening shouts from the 
assembled thousands. During the four days he re- 
mained in the city, it was one constant jubilee; and 
when he left for Boston, all along his route, the peo- 
ple rose to welcome him. He travelled every night 
till twelve o'clock, and watch-fires were kept burning 
on the hill-tops, along his line of progress. Blazing 
through the darkness, they outshone the torches that 
heralded him ; while in the distance the pealing of 
bells from every church spire, announced his coming. 
The same enthusiastic joy received him at Boston; 
and when he returned to New York, the city was 
wilder than ever with excitement. In Castle-garden 
there was a splendid illumination in honor of him — 
the bridge leading to it was surmounted by a pyra- 
mid sixty feet high, with a blazing star at the top, 
from the centre of which flashed the name of Lafay- 
ette. The planks were covered with carpets, and 
trees and flowers innumerable lined the passage. 
Over the entrance was a triumphal arch of flowers — 
hugh columns arose from the area, supporting arches 
of flowers, and flags, and statues. As he entered this 
wilderness of beauty, the bands struck up, " See the 



MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 283 

conquering hero comes," and shouts shook the edifice 
to its foundations. He had scarcely taken his seat 
in a splendid marquee, prepared for his reception, 
when the curtain before the gallery, in front of him, 
lifted — and there was a beautiful transparency, rep- 
resenting La Grange, with its grounds and towers, 
and beneath it, " This is his home/' Nothing could 
be more touching and affectionate than this device; 
and as Lafayette's eye fell upon it, a tear was seen to 
gather there, and his lip to quiver with feeling. 

Thus the people received the " people's friend." 
From New York he went to Albany, and Troy, and 
one long shout of welcome rolled the length of the 
Hudson, as he floated up the noble stream. Return- 
ing, he went to Philadelphia; and passing through 
the same scenes that had been enacted in every city 
he had visited, continued his route to Mount Vernon, 
to visit the tomb of Washington. The thunder of 
cannon announced his arrival at the consecrated 
ground, calling to his mind the time when he had 
seen that, now lifeless chieftain, move through the 
tumult of battle. Wishing no one to witness his 
emotions, as he stood beside the ashes of his friend, 
he descended alone into the vault. With trembling 
steps, and uncovered head, he passed down to the 
tomb. The secrets of that meeting of the living with 
the dead, no one knows ; but when the aged veteran 
came forth again, his face was covered with tears. 
He then took his son, and secretary by the hand, and 
led them into the vault. He could not speak — his 
bursting heart was too full for utterance, and he 
mutely pointed to the coffin of Washington. They 



284 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

knelt reverently beside it, kissed it, then rising, threw 
themselves into Lafayette's arms, and burst into 
tears. It was a touching scene, there in the silent 
vault, and worthy the noble sleeper. 

From thence he went to Yorktown, where a mag- 
nificent reception was given him. Proceeding South, 
he passed through all the principal cities, to New 
Orleans, and thence up the Mississippi, to Cincin- 
nati, and across to Pittsburg, and finally to western 
New York, through which he hastened rapidly to 
Boston, to be present at the laying of the corner- 
stone of the Bunker's Hill monument. 

Previously to his southern trip, however, he had 
visited Congress, and been received by that body with 
distinguished honor. A few days after, a bill was 
passed, giving him a hundred and forty thousand 
dollars, as payment, in part, for the money he had 
expended in our behalf. He had clothed and fed our 
naked, starving soldiers at his own cost — expended 
money for the State — fought our battles — endured, 
suffered, and toiled for our welfare ; yet he never 
asked, never expected compensation. It had been en- 
tirely a free-will offering — his youth, his wealth, his 
life, all, an unselfish, noble sacrifice to a weak, but 
brave people, struggling to be free. 

This generous, and yet only just remuneration, 
took Lafayette by surprise, and affected him deeply. 
Indeed, to a heart like his, the open arms and over- 
flowing affection of the people were a sufficient 
reward. The entire nation had risen to do him hom- 
age. " Honor to Lafayette," " Welcome to Lafay- 
ette — the nation's guest," and such like exclamations^ 



MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 285 

had met him at every step. Flowers were strewed 
along his pathway — his carriage detached from the 
horses, and dragged by the enthusiastic crowd, along 
ranks of grateful freemen, who rent the heavens with 
their acclamations. From the heads of government 
down to the lowest menial, all had united in pouring 
blessings on his venerable head. Melted to tears by 
these demonstrations of love, he had moved like a 
father amid his children, scattering blessings wher- 
ever he went. 

One of his last acts in this country, was to lay the 
corner-stone of the Bunker Hill monument. He had 
placed the stone over Baron De Kalb's grave, in 
South Carolina, and now it was fit that he, the last 
survivor of the major-generals of the American 
Revolution, should consecrate the first block in that 
grand structure. Amid the silent attention of fifty 
thousand spectators, this aged veteran, and friend of 
Washington, with uncovered head, performed the 
imposing ceremonies, and '' Long live Lafayette," 
swelled up from the top of Bunker Hill. 

At length, after having passed through almost the 
entire Union, in the space of a few months, he em- 
barked the eighth of September, for his native land. 
The Brandyzvine was sent out by government to con- 
vey him home; and when it reached Havre, the offi- 
cers, wishing to express their admiration of him, 
deputed their first lieutenant, Gregory, to convey 
their sentiments. The young officer, overcome by 
his feelings, was unable to utter a word ; but in a 
spirit of true heroism, ran to the stern of the vessel, 
and snatching the flag that waved there, handed it 



286 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

to him, saying : " We cannot confide it to more 
glorious keeping." He then made a short address, 
to which Lafayette repHed, saying: '' I hope, that 
displayed from the most prominent part of my house, 
at La Grange, it will always testify to all who may 
see it, the kindness of the American nation towards 
its adopted and devoted son." 

The people thronged around him as he travelled 
through France, and he was everywhere hailed ** The 
people's friend." 

In public and private duties — in the service of his 
country, and in acts of private charity, he passed his 
life, until 1830, when Charles X. — mad, like all his 
race — issued his tyrannical ordinances, which pro- 
duced the revolution that placed Louis Philippe on 
the throne. With the first intimation of the out- 
break, he hastened to Paris, and at once took sides 
with the people. On the second day's fight, the stu- 
dents of the Polytechnic School assembled at his 
house to receive instructions in the course they should 
pursue. Lafayette was a man of a past generation, 
but his name had been a household word ; and it was 
a touching spectacle to see those fresh and youthful 
students gather around the man of silver locks, and 
listen to the words of freedom that dropped from his 
lips, and then go forth to lay down their lives for 
their country. On the last day of that terrible strug- 
gle, — amid the pealing of the tocsin, the thunder of 
cannon, and groans of the dying, the name of La- 
fayette was the watch-word that rung over the tu- 
mult, and roused the courage of the patriots. Again 
the Bourbon throne went down in blood, and again 



MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 287 

Lafayette put aside the power, which a successful 
revolution had placed in his hands. Louis Philippe 
was called to the throne, which the arm of Lafayette 
alone steadied till the revolution subsided. 

It was not very long, however, before he and the 
king's cabinet disagreed. Louis Philippe had prom- 
ised to protect the liberties of the people; but no 
sooner did he feel the sceptre in his hand, than the 
blood of a Bourbon began to tingle in his fingers. 
He had deceived Lafayette — but what could the lat- 
ter do? The first revolution broke away from his 
restraining influence, and raged on till it was 
quenched in a sea of blood itself had set flowing. 
Bonaparte had deceived him, and grasped imperial 
power, and now Louis Philippe had proved false to 
his promises. 

He lived but four years after this, and died of an 
affection of the kidneys, in 1834, in his seventy- 
seventh year. His death produced a great sensation 
in this country, and funeral honors were everywhere 
paid him. 

HIS CHARACTER 

Lafayette was about six feet in height, and in his 
later years somewhat corpulent. His face was oval, 
with light, large, and prominent eyes, a high fore- 
head and aquiline nose. 

He did not possess what is commonly termed 
genius, nor was he a man of remarkable intellectual 
powers. In youth, ardent and adventurous, he soon 
learned, under Washington, to curb his impulses, and 
act more from his judgment. Left to himself, he 



288 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

probably never would have reached any great emi- 
nence — but there could have been no better school 
for the fiery young republican, than the family of 
Washington. His affection and reverence for the 
latter, gradually changed his entire character. 
Washington was his model, and imitating his self- 
control and noble patriotism, he became like him in 
patriotism and virtue. The difference between them 
was the same as that between an original and a copy. 
Washington was a man of immense strength of 
character — not only strong in virtue, but in intellect 
and will. Everything bent before him, and the en- 
tire nation took its impress from his mind. Lafay- 
ette was strong in integrity, and nothing could shake 
his unalterable devotion to the welfare of man. En- 
thusiastically wedded to republican institutions, no 
temptation could induce him to seize on, or aid 
power which threatened to overthrow them. Al- 
though somewhat vain and conceited, he was gen- 
erous, self-sacrificing, and benevolent. Few men 
have passed through so many and so fearful scenes 
as he. From a young courtier, he passed into the 
self-denying, toilsome life of a general in the ill- 
clothed, ill-fed, and ill-disciplined American army — 
thence into the vortex of the French Revolution and 
all its horrors — thence into the gloomy prison of 
Olmutz. After a few years of retirement, he ap- 
peared on our shores to receive the welcome of a 
grateful people, and hear a nation shout his praise, 
and bear him from one limit of the land to another 
in its arms. A few years pass by, and with his gray 
hairs falling about his aged countenance, he stands 



MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 289 

amid the students of Paris, and sends his feeble 
shout of defiance to the throne of the Bourbon, and 
it falls. Rising more by his virtue than his intellect, 
he holds a prominent place in the history of France, 
and linked with Washington, goes down to a greater 
immortality than awaits any emperor or mere war- 
rior of the human race. 

His love for this country was deep and abiding. 
To the last his heart turned hither, and well it might : 
— his career of glory began on our shores — on our 
cause he staked his reputation, fortune, and life, and 
in our success received the benediction of the good 
the world over. That love was returned with in- 
terest, and never was a nobler exhibition of a nation's 
gratitude than our reception of him at his last visit. 
We love him for what he did for us — we revere him 
for his consistency to our principles amid all the 
chaos and revolutions of Europe ; and when we cease 
to speak of him with affection and gratitude, we shall 
show ourselves unworthy of the blessings we have 
received at his hand. "Honor to Lafayette!" 
will ever stand inscribed on our temple of liberty 
until its ruins shall cover all it now contains. 



LIFE OF 
BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 



BY 



J. T. HEADLEY 



A. B., VOL. III. — 19 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 



His Early Life.— Heads a Forlorn Hope against the Chero- 
kees. — Fires the last cannon in the Battle of Fort Moultrie. 
— Bravery at Savannah. — Breaks his leg by leaping from a 
window in Charleston. — Is hunted from cover to cover. — 
Left alone in the Field. — Joins Gates. — Appointed over a 
Brigade. — Its appearance, and that of Marion. — His first 
Expedition. — Fight at the Black Mingo. — Camp at Snow's 
Island. — Pursued by Tarleton. — By Watson, and defeats 
him. — His camp destroyed by Doyle. — Battle of King's 
Mountain. — Joined by Lee. — Takes Forts Watson and 
Motte. — Takes Georgetown. — Pefeats Frazier. — Bravery at 
Eutaw. — Affair at Quimby Bridge. — Takes his seat in the 
Legislature. — Retires to his farm. — His marriage. — Noble 
conduct in the Senate. — His Character and Death. 

Marion^ Sumpter^ and Lee are names immor- 
talized in the annals of Southern warfare. These 
did not rank as major-generals in the army, yet they 
commanded more or less separate portions of the 
country, and frequently carried on an independent 
warfare. They were partisan leaders ; and as par- 
tisan war, especially in the South, constituted such 
an important feature in our Revolutionary struggle, 
I venture to depart from my original plan, and place 
Marion — the chief of them, in the group of major- 
generals. Though usually operating in small de- 
tachments, the combined action and influence of 

293 



294 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

those leaders were equal to that of a division of the 
army, and for a long time the fate of the Carolinas 
was in their keeping. A partisan warfare calls into 
action qualities different from those needed in a com- 
mander-in-chief. Celerity, boldness, and personal 
prowess are usually the characteristics of a partisan 
officer. Stratagems take the place of extensive com- 
binations, and secret excursions that of an open cam- 
paign. Reckless daring is better than discipline; 
for the sudden onset is demanded oftener than the 
open field-fight. A good partisan leader may be- 
come an able commander of an army, though, to be 
the former, it is not necessary one should possess the 
qualities of the latter. 

A predatory warfare was carried on to some ex- 
tent by the Indians all along our north-western, and 
western frontiers, furnishing occasions to exhibit the 
hardihood and valor of our early settlers ; but in the 
South it became a permanent thing, and assumed a 
settled character. The presence of a great army 
would swallow up for a while these independent 
companies; but at the withdrawal, or defeat of the 
former, the latter sprung again into existence, and 
hung like a cloud around the victorious enemy. No 
sooner did Lincoln surrender at Charleston, than 
from every swamp of the Carolinas started up bands 
of resolute men, ready to dispute with the invader 
the right to the soil. Out of the wreck of Gates's 
army arose, phoenix-like, a new form of opposition, 
Which showed the thrice-conquered country uncon- 
quered still. 

Marion's career embodies more of romance, per- 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 295 

sonal adventure, hairbreadth escapes, wild daring, 
and heroic courage than usually falls to the lot of 
any man. During all that distressful period when 
our country was bleeding at every pore, his patriot- 
ism burned v^ith a pure flame, and his hand was ever 
ready to strike. Whether we behold him in his soli- 
tary island encampment, amid the dark pine-trees, on 
whose branches his sentinels sit — eating his rude 
meal by the light of the blazing fire, or stealing with 
his chosen band of horsemen, by midnight, through 
the forest, to the unsuspecting enemy; or bursting, 
with his fierce war cry, on the British dragoons, or 
with sword waving above his head, leading his brave 
militia to the shock of the bayonet; he is the same 
cautious, daring, prompt, and resolute man. From 
the shades of the gloomy swamp — by the light of his 
lonely watch-fires — in the midst of battle — that same 
swarthy, calm, thoughtful face, looks steadily upon 
us, and that piercing black eye holds our earnest 
gaze. Through all the changes that came and went 
like shadows over the distracted South, the shout of 
" Marion's men " rings cheerily out, and their rifle- 
shot is heard, sending hope and courage through 
thousands of brave, but desponding hearts. 

Francis Marion was born at Winyah, near 
Georgetown, South Carolina, in 1732 — the same 
year which gave birth to Washington. His grand- 
father was one of the Huguenots of France, who fled 
to this country to escape persecution at home. Of 
diminutive proportions, and feeble frame, he seemed 
destined to an early grave, rather than to the long 
and arduous career he pursued with such honor to 



296 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

himself, and good to his country. But at twelve 
years of age his health became firm, and that defiant, 
untamed spirit, which afterwards characterized him, 
began to exhibit itself. At sixteen he undertook a 
voyage to the West Indies, and was ship-wrecked. 
Six days in an open boat on the sea, without pro- 
visions, except a dead dog, and without water, seem 
to have cured him of his roving propensities ; and he 
retired to the farm of his father. 

He had but just arrived at maturity, when his 
father died — and after a short residence with his 
mother and brother Gabriel, he removed to Bell Isle, 
near Eutaw Springs, where he ever afterwards lived, 
and where his bones now rest. At the commence- 
ment of the French and Indian war, he enlisted as a 
private in a regiment of cavalry commanded by his 
brother. Afterwards he was appointed lieutenant 
under Moultrie, in an expedition against the Chero- 
kees; and in an attack on them at Etchoee, led a 
forlorn hope of thirty-one men, only ten of whom 
escaped unwounded. The battle raged with sangui- 
nary ferocity for six hours, when the savages gave 
way. After the peace, he returned to his farm, and 
between the labors of the field and the excitement of 
hunting, passed his life till the eventful year of 1775. 
The quarrel with the mother country then assuming 
a more alarming aspect, he entered warmly into the 
cause of the colonies, and was elected member of the 
provincial Congress of South Carolina. Casting his 
vote in favor of the act that bound the South and 
North together in a common brotherhood, he soon 
after received from that body the commission of cap- 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 297 

tain In one of the three regiments raised for tlie de- 
fence of the colony. From this time till June of the 
next year, he was busy recruiting his regiment, dis- 
ciplining his men, and performing the various duties 
of his station.* His company composed a part of 
that gallant few, who so bravely defended Fort 
Moultrie for eleven hours against the combined at- 
tack of the British fleet. It is said the last gun fired 
on that day was directed by him. As the ships were 
retiring, he gave them a parting salute, and so well 
aimed was the piece, that the shot struck the cabin 
of the commander's^ ship, killing two young officers 
drinking at the table, then coursing onward, shat- 
tered in pieces three sailors in its passage, and, 
finally, bathed in the blood of its foes, " sunk with 
sullen joy to the bottom." This was but a presage 
of the destruction he was yet to carry through the 
ranks of the enemy — merely a messenger of deeds 
to be done. 

After the battle, he continued for a while in com- 
mand of the fort, but was engaged in no important 
action till the fatal attack on Savannah, by Count 
D'Estaing and General Lincoln. In the attempt to 
carry the town by storm, Marion was in the column 
led on by the gallant Laurens, and saw with the 
deepest indignation the terrible sacrifice of life that 
succeeded. 

In the defence and fall of Charlestown, which fol- 
lowed, Marion took no part, and hence was saved to 
the country in a time when his services were most 
needed. The merest accident, however, prevented 
his sharing the fate of Lincoln and his army. Soon 



298 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

after the siege commenced, he was invited, with a 
party of friends, to dine at the house of a gentleman 
in the city. x\fter dinner, the host good-naturedly 
turned the key of the door on his guests, declaring 
that none should depart till they were all well filled 
with wine. Marion was a man of temperate, ab- 
stemious habits, and not wishing to offend his host 
by raising a disturbance with his half-tipsy com- 
panions, coolly threw up a window and leaped out. 
They were dining in the second story, and Marion 
came to the ground with such force, that he broke 
his ankle. This rendered him unfit for service, and 
he was carried on a litter out of the place, so as not 
to add to the burdens of the besieged. 

After the fall of Charleston and defeat of Beau- 
fort, the whole siurrounding country was in posses- 
sion of the enemy, and Marion's position became 
exceedingly critical. Hunted from cover to cover, 
and too crippled to help himself, he was entirely de- 
pendent on his friends for safety. Sometimes in the 
thicket, and sometimes in the field, he lurked from 
one place of concealment to another, until he was at 
length able to ride on horseback; when, gathering 
around him a few friends, he started for North 
Carolina, to join Baron de Kalb on his way thither 
from Virginia. Poor and penniless, without any 
prospect of pay, and impelled only by a devoted love 
to his country, he pursued his weary way northward. 
Horry, his companion and friend, in speaking of 
their poverty, says, " except for carrying a knife, or 
a horse-fleam, or a gun-flint, we had no more use 
for a pocket than a Highlander has for a knee- 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 299 

buckle. As to hard money, we had not seen a dol- 
lar for years." 

In the meantime, Gates had superseded De Kalb, 
and commenced that series of blunders which ended 
in his overthrow, and the destruction of the army. 
Marion joined him with but twenty men, all told, 
and a most sorry company they were. Mounted on 
such horses as they could get, clad in tattered gar- 
ments, with small leather caps on their heads, and 
equipped with rusty firelocks, powder-horns, and 
scarce a bayonet among tliem, they moved the mirth 
of the regular soldiers, and the contempt of Gates. 
But this brave partisan was worth a hundred of such 
men as Gates, and had the latter consulted him, his 
fate might have been different. From Marion's side 
the militia were never known to fly, as they did from 
their leaders in the disastrous battle of Camden. 
But he was spared the pain of witnessing the errors 
that preceded and brought on the action, and per- 
haps the death he would doubtless have sought be- 
side the brave De Kalb. For while in camp, he re- 
ceived a message from the Whigs of Williamsburg, 
to become their leader, and immediately departed to 
take command. Gates, sure of victory, ordered him 
to destroy all the scows and boats on the way, so as 
to prevent the doomed Cornwallis from escaping. 
The brigade over which he found himself, was com- 
posed of undisciplined, but brave and hardy men, 
accustomed to the use of firearms, and fatal marks- 
men. Its after history was one of patient toil, pri- 
vations, perilous adventures, and heroic deeds, un- 
surpassed in the annals of partisan warfare. 



300 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

At this time, Marion received his commission as 
brigadier, from Governor Rutledge; though from 
his dress one would never have supposed him to be 
a general. He was now forty-eight years of age, 
small, lean, and swarthy, but firmly set, and of iron 
sinews. He wore a scarlet-colored outer jacket, of 
coarse cloth, and a leather cap with a silver crescent 
in front, on which was inscribed " Liberty or 
Death." His new troops were no better equipped 
than himself ; but their wants were few, and if they 
could but get arms and ammunition, the regimentals 
could be dispensed with. In order to supply them- 
selves with swords, they took the saws from the 
neighboring saw-mills, and hammered them into 
stout blades ; which, though not of Damascus temper 
and polish, would, in the brawny hands that wielded 
them, cleave a man to the spine at a blow. Without 
tents or baggage, with but few blankets — their in- 
trepid leader having but one to serve both for his 
bed and covering — they mounted their fleet horses 
and entered on their adventurous career. They 
were bold riders, and could fire as well from the 
saddle as from the ground; and proud and careful 
of their steeds, often starved their own stomachs to 
feed them. Marion, soon after he set out, obtained 
a splendid horse, from a Tory, named Ball, which 
would outstrip the wind in speed, and could swim 
like a dog. Many a dark nig^t, when the horses of 
his column would refuse to enter a deep river, the 
farther shore of which could not be seen, has Ball 
boldly plunged into the stream with his fearless mas- 
ter, and drawn the whole troop after him. 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 30I 

Thus equipped and thus commanded, this mounted 
brigade started off on its first expedition. At .the 
outset, Marion showed his men what kind of service 
he expected of them. Ordering them to ride all 
night, he came up in the morning with a large party 
of Tories encamped at Butler's Neck, and fell on 
them with such suddenness and fury, that the whole 
party was scattered as if a whirlwind had swept 
through it. 

Many of those who composed Marion's troops, 
were men of amazing physical strength — daring 
riders, and desperate fighters. In this first encoun- 
ter, one of them, named James,* made at Major 
Gainey, who commanded the Tories, and chased him 
for a half a mile along the road. Leaning over his 
saddle, with his drawn sword in his hand, he swept 
onward in such a headlong gallop, that he soon left 
all his companions far behind. With his flashing 
eye fixed on his antagonist, on whom he was gain- 
ing at every spring, he did not see that he was dash- 
ing, all alone, into a large body of Tories, who had 
rallied in their flight. Not a moment was to be lost 
— to retreat was impossible — and without tightening 
the rein, he waved his sword over his head, and 
shouting, as if a whole troop were at his back : 
*' Come on, boys; here they are! " burst like a thun- 
derbolt into their very midst. The whole party 
broke without firing a shot, and fled to the swamps. 

Halting only long enough to rest his men and 
horses, Marion went in search of another detach- 

* There were five brothers of this name, all in Marion's bri- 
gade ; and noble men they were. 



302 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

ment of Tories. On coming up he found them too 
strongly posted to be attacked in their position, and 
so beguiled them into an ambush; when he fell on 
them so unexpectedly, that he dispersed them with- 
out losing a man. He then marched for the Upper 
Santee, and on his route heard of the defeat of Gates, 
at Camden. Concealing the news from his men, lest 
they should be discouraged, he pushed on to intercept 
a party, which his scouts informed him was coming 
down the river with a large number of prisoners, 
taken at Camden, in their charge. Marching rap- 
idly forward, he got possession of a defile, through 
which they were to pass, and at daylight attacked 
them, both in front and rear, with such suddenness 
that they gave but one volley, and fled. Twenty- 
four British soldiers, and a hundred and fifty con- 
tinentals of the Maryland line, were the fruits of this 
victory. 

Marion now found himself alone in the field — the 
Southern army was annihilated, and he was left 
single-handed to resist the overwhelming force of 
the enemy. But his brave followers, instead of be- 
ing discouraged, as he feared they would be, rose in 
daring and determination as the danger thickened — 
clinging faithfully to their leader. This bold band, 
on their fleet horses, darted from point to point — 
now breaking up a recruiting party— now dispersing 
and disheartening the loyalists, and again cutting off 
supplies of the British army, or falling on their out- 
posts, and beating up their quarters, till at length 
Cornwallis was irritated beyond all endurance. He 
had cut up our army, and if left alone for only a 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 303 

short time, could fill the country with such an array 
of Tories, that the Whig militia would be overawed 
and subdued. But this policy could not be carried 
out, so long as this wily partisan was scouring the 
country with his riders. The Tories themselves 
were afraid to gather together; for they could 
scarcely organize before the crack of his rifles sent 
them frightened to their homes, and roused the 
courage of the Whigs. 

At length Cornwallis wrote to Tarleton, to get 
hold of " Mr. Marion," at all hazards; and soon this 
daring relentless officer was after him with his 
dreaded legion. With only a hundred and fifty men 
Marion was unable to compete with this force; but 
still hoping for some favorable opportunity to strike, 
he sent out Major James — the same who had 
charged, all alone, so valiantly, a large band of 
Tories, while he was chasing down Gainey — 'to re- 
connoitre. With a few picked men he set forth on 
his perilous mission, which he contrived, before he 
got through with it, to make still more dangerous. 
Concealing his little party in a thicket, at sunset, by 
the road along which he knew the enemy to be 
marching, he waited their approach. Soon after 
dark he heard the tread of the advancing column; 
and notwithstanding his dangerous proximity, de- 
termined to stay and count the troops as they passed. 
By the light of the moon, in whose rays the long line 
of bayonets sparkled, he could distinguish every- 
thing. With laughter and mirth the shining proces- 
sion passed on ; but at sight of the Tories who fol- 
lowed, the bold partisan's wrath was so kindled, that 



304 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

he resolved to leave his mark on them before he left. 
In the rear of the cavalcade were several stragglers, 
and these James selected as the objects of his fury. 
At a given signal the spurs sunk into the flanks of 
their steeds, and those fierce horsemen cleared the 
thicket with a single bound, and emerged into the 
moonlight. With their sabres gleaming about them, 
and a terrible shout, they fell on the panic-stricken 
wretches — the next moment, each with his prisoner 
behind him, was sweeping in a tearing gallop along 
the road, the echo of their horses' feet rapidly dying 
away in the distance. Before daybreak he was with 
Marion. The news of the enemy's force was even 
worse than the latter had feared ; and the officers re- 
tired to consult, while the men sat on their horses to 
wait the issue. There was no alternative — they 
must take refuge in flight; and the gallant band 
obeyed though they received the announcement with 
groans. The next evening, at sunset, with only 
sixty men, he commenced his march for North 
Carolina. The merciless invaders had it now their 
own way, and swept through the country with fire 
and sword. The ashes of houses and churches 
burned to the ground, lands laid waste, and mur- 
dered men, were the monuments they left along the 
track of their desolating march : — but a score of 
wrongs and cruelties was run up, yet to be wiped out 
with their own blood. 

The immediate effect of these barbarities was to 
arouse the militia to resistance. Marion, who had 
travelled night and day till he reached North Caro- 
lina, soon learned from his scouts of the rallying of 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 305 

the country, and joyfully hastened back to the scene 
of danger. The rapidity of his march shows the 
amazing celerity of his movements, and the wonder- 
ful endurance possessed by his men. He travelled 
night and day, and the second day marched sixty 
miles. Being joined on his way by reinforcements, 
he immediately planned a night attack on a large 
party of Tories encamped on the Black Mingo. 
Though they outnumbered him two to one, his men 
were fierce for the fight, and he determined to gratify 
them. The ferry across the river was commanded 
so completely by the enemy, that it would be impos- 
sible to force it, while the only other route to their 
camp, was through a swamp and over a plank bridge 
about a mile farther up. The latter, Marion re- 
solved to take, and pressing on through the darkness, 
he with his men reached the bridge about midnight, 
and immediately began to cross it in close and firm 
order, hoping to take the enemy by surprise. But 
the clatter of the horses' feet on the loose planks was 
heard by the sentinel, and an alarm-gun fired in the 
distance. Concealment was now over, and spurring 
to the head of his column, Marion ordered his men 
to follow on a gallop ; and away they dashed, making 
the bridge rattle and creak under their feet. When 
he came within about three hundred yards of the 
Tories, he ordered his militia-men to dismount and 
fasten their horses. He then planned his attack; 
and falling on them both in front and rear at the 
same time, after a short but bloody conflict, laid 
half of their number prostrate on the field, and drove 
the remainder into the swamps ; but his own brigade 

A. B., VOL. III. — 20 



306 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

also suffered severely. His loss was often greater, 
from the fact, that he much of the time had no sur- 
geon in his band, and hence the wounded would fre- 
quently bleed to death. The alarm given also, while 
he was yet a mile off, had allowed the enemy time 
to rally, and choose their own field of battle. But 
Marion learned a lesson by this, which he never 
forgot; and ever after, when a bridge was to be 
crossed he covered it with the blankets of his men, 
so as to deaden the sound. 

Those night marches and night battles added in- 
conceivably to the mystery and romance of his char- 
acter. They remind us of olden stories of outlaws 
and robber bands, and present a series of pictures 
worthy the pencil of Salvator Rosa. The marshall- 
ing of those uncouth-looking, coarse-clad men, at 
sunset — the winding of the silent column through 
the gloomy swamp, where even the moonlight 
seemed darkened — the array of stern-knit brows 
which pressed close after that solemn, swarthy face, 
when danger was near — the watch-fires of the un- 
suspecting enemy in the distance — the sudden blast 
of bugles — the clatter of galloping steeds, and the 
shouts of fierce riders as they burst in one wild tor- 
rent on the foe, combine to throw an air of mystery 
and poetry around Marion that make us fascinated 
with his character. Slightly made, reserved — al- 
most solemn — given to no excess, very abstemious 
in all his habits — kind and gentle even to his foes, 
but stern as death when aroused — seeking no emolu- 
ment, and receiving no reward, sustained alone by a 
lofty patriotism, he is just the man around which to 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 307 

weave romances, and gather all that is picturesque 
and thrilling in human life. Thus a short time after 
the affair at Black Mingo, he came again at mid- 
night upon a party of Tories wrapped in sleep, and 
rode over them ere they could rise from their repose. 

He was soon after pressed closely by Tarleton, 
with a superior force, and came near falling into 
his hands, through the treachery of one of his re- 
cruits — but escaping by a sudden flight, he led his 
enraged adversary through swamps and morasses 
twenty-five miles, till the latter gave over, saying, 
" Come, my boys, let us go back. We will soon find 
the game cock, (meaning Sumpter,) but as for this 

d d szvamp fox, the devil himself could not catch 

him." 

Every adventure of this character added to the 
influence and strength of Marion. 

HIS CAMP AT snow's ISLAND 

His camp at Snow's Island, whither he now re- 
tired after an unsuccessful attempt on Georgetown, 
was calculated to increase it still more. This island 
is situated in the Pedee, where Lynch's Creek 
empties into it, and at the time he selected it as a 
place of retreat, was covered in the more elevated 
parts with tall pine trees, and in the lower portions 
with dense cane-brakes. All the boats in the region, 
except those moored to his island castle, he ordered 
to be destroyed, and here amid the wildness and 
beauty of nature, this bold partisan pitched his camp, 
and ruled like an ancient feudal lord. He strength- 

A. B., VOL. III.— 20 



308 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

ened the natural defences around him, while the few 
avenues that led to his retreat were guarded by trusty 
rifles. A more picturesque scene cannot be imagined 
than this camp presented on a bright warm day. 
There, in the tall cool forest, those hardy warriors, 
in their uncouth garments, lay stretched on the 
ground, preparing their repast of potatoes, while the 
smoke of the fires curling slowly up through the 
tree-tops, struggled almost in vain to reach the open 
space of heaven. On every side, half-hid by the 
trunks and foliage, horses were browsing with their 
saddles on and the bits dangling about their necks, 
ready at a moment's warning to be mounted; and 
from the branches of the trees swords hung idly sus- 
pended. Here and there, through the trees, blue 
wreaths of smoke were seen rising where the out- 
posts were engaged at their frugal meal, while down 
that dark and silent avenue, which led to the shore, 
the rifles of sentinels gleamed amid the shrubbery. 

But as one gazes into that camp, the object of 
deepest interest there is a single sleeper. His slight 
form is thrown upon the ground, and though the 
piercing black eye is veiled, that calm swarthy face 
reveals the partisan leader. He sleeps soundly, se- 
curely, and well he may, amid that circle of iron- 
hearted men; for at his slightest cry a hundred 
swords would leap from their scabbards* and bold 
must be the foeman who then and there would dare 
press upon him. He sleeps well ; but a slight touch 
has awakened him, and he rises to hear the message 
brought by one of his scouts. A band of Tories is 
near, lying waste the country. In a moment that 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 309 

quiet camp is alive with the bustle of preparation ; 
and lo ! that column of horsemen is winding its way 
to the river. 

Before morning their war-shout will be heard, and 
the strokes of their sabres felt by the spoilers of the 
land. 

It was here he received the visit of the English 
officer, and dined him on roasted potatoes. Marion's 
fare was always simple in the extreme — vinegar and 
water mixed composing his only drink. " His favor- 
ite time for moving was with the setting sun, and 
then it was known the marc^h would continue all 
night. Before striking any sudden blow, he has been 
known to march sixty or seventy miles, taking no 
other food in twenty-four hours than a meal of cold 
potatoes and a draught of cold water. His scouts 
were out in all directions, and at all hours. They 
were taught a peculiar and shrill whistle, which at 
night could be heard at a most astonishing distance. 
They did the double duty of patrols and spies. They 
hovered about the posts of the enemy, crouching in 
the thickets or darting along the plain, picking up 
prisoners, and information, and spoils together. 
Sometimes the single scout, buried in the thick top 
of a tree, looked down upon the march of his legions, 
or hung perched over the encampment till it slept, 
then slipped down, stole through the silent host, 
carrying off a drowsy sentinel or a favorite charger, 
upon which the daring spy flourished conspicuous 
among his less fortunate companions."* Among 
this hardy band, none had greater powers of endur- 
* Vide Simms, pages 162, 167, 171. 



3IO AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

ance than Marion. In summer and winter he had 
but one -blanket to protect him from cold and storms, 
and this, after a while, he lost. Lying one night 
upon some straw, it took fire while he was asleep, 
and the blanket nearly consumed — he himself nar- 
rowly escaping a severe scorching. It mattered not 
to him, however — with his hominy or potatoes, his 
vinegar and water, he would ride sixty miles on a 
stretch, and then fight a battle before resting. He 
never informed his men of the length of his proposed 
expeditions, and the only way they could ascertain 
it, was to see how much hominy or corn meal his 
servant put up. He frequently went into action 
with only three rounds of ammunition to each man ; 
and sometimes without any or even arms to a por- 
tion of the company. In such cases the men would 
coolly stand and watch the fight, till their compan- 
ions shot down some of the enemy, when they would 
rush up and take possession of their muskets and 
cartridges. Saw-mill saws furnished broad-swords, 
but there was a dreadful scarcity of bullets. If the 
militia could obtain buckshot, they were satisfied; 
but they were often compelled to fight with nothing 
but szvan-shot, w'hich, though peppering a great 
many, killed but few in proportion. 

Such was Marion and such were his men and 
equipments when he pitched his camp on Snow's 
Island. But here reinforcements began to come in ; 
and he soon found himself a brigadier in strength, 
as well as in name. 

About this time, however, he met with two heavy 
losses, one of which wrung his heart, and the other 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 31 1 

weakened his power. His nephew, Gabriel Marion, 
whom he loved with the affection of a father, a 
young officer of great bravery and promise, was 
taken prisoner by the Tories, and cruelly massacred. 
The blow fell heavy upon him, and many a deep and 
terrible oath was sworn by his band, to avenge his 
death. The supposed murderer was afterwards 
taken, and slain, before Marion could interpose to 
his rescue. The other calamity was the loss of 
Sumpter's services. This gallant chief had met 
Tarleton, and utterly routed him at Blackstock. 
Pushing on with four hundred mounted men, the 
British leader fell furiously on him, but was re- 
pulsed, with the loss of nearly two hundred men. 
Sumpter had only three killed, and three wounded 
out of his whole command ; but among the latter was 
himself. A bullet struck his breast, inflicting a ter- 
rible wound. His devoted followers immediately 
wrapped him in the raw hide of a bullock, and sling- 
ing him between two horses, sent him, guarded by a 
hundred resolute men, into North Carolina. It was 
a long time before he could again take the field. 
♦ But if disasters thickened in one quarter, hope 
brightened in another. In October of this year, 
1780, occurred the — 

BATTLE OF KING^S MOUNTAIN 

Colonel Ferguson had been detached by Cornwal- 
lis, to the frontiers of North Carolina, to encourage 
and arm the loyalists, and intimidate the patriots. 
He swept the country with fire and sword, and drove 



312 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

the defenceless mothers and children, with ribald 
shouts, from their blazing homes. Women were rav- 
ished, and every enormity human depravity could 
suggest practiced. These outrages at length aroused 
the mountaineers to the highest pitch of desperation. 
Rallying in haste, they appointed their own officers, 
and demanded immediately to be led against the 
bloody monster. Mounted each on his horse, with 
only a wallet and a blanket, they set forward. At 
night they slept on the damp earth, and in the morn- 
ing again pressed resolutely on. At every step they 
came upon the marks of the ravages of the enemy, 
which whetted into keener vengeance their already 
excited passions. Ferguson, hearing of the storm 
that was gathering around him, retired to a hill cov- 
ered with trees, and shaped somewhat like a flattened 
cone, and there planted his men, and awaited the on- 
set. At length the enraged patriots found him, and 
with cries of vengeance, swarmed in a crowd at the 
base of the hill. Colonels Cleveland, Campbell, Sel- 
by, Sevier, Williams, and others led them on. The 
first, addressing his men, said : " My brave fellows, 
we have beat the Tories, and can do it again. When 
you are engaged, you are not to wait the word of 
command from me : I will show you, by my example, 
how to fight. I can undertake no more. Every man 
must consider himself an officer, and act from his 
own judgment. Fire as quick as you can, and stand 
your ground as long as you can. When you can do 
no better, get behind trees, and retreat ; but I beg of 
you not to run quite off. If we are repulsed, let us 
return to the fight ; perhaps we will have better luck 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 313 

the second time. If any of you are afraid, such have 
leave to retire, and I beg they will immediately take 
themselves off." * They shouted to be led forward; 
and driving the advanced guard of the British be- 
fore them, streamed up the heights, and surrounding 
the enemy, began to pour in their rapid fire. Fergu- 
son ordered his men to charge bayonet ; and moving 
intrepidly on the column of Cleveland, drove it back. 
But while pressing up his advantage, Selby began to 
ascend the farther side, compelling him to turn back 
and defend himself, which he did like a tiger at bay, 
and the Americans again recoiled. But Cleveland's 
men, following the advice which had been given 
them, rallied anew, and rushed, with loud shouts, to 
the charge. Campbell also had now come up, and 
the battle raged like a storm, there on the crest of the 
hill. Ferguson found himself completely hemmed 
in, yet continued to fight like a desperado. He knew 
there was no hope for him, if once caught by those 
outraged Americans, and he strained every nerve to 
clear himself from the circle of fire that was every 
moment contracting closer and closer. Charge after 
charge of bayonet was made, but those determined 
men recoiled only to spring with more desperate en- 
ergy to the encounter. They called on Ferguson to 
surrender, but he sternly refused; and rallying his 
diminished troops around him, bravely fell, with his 
sword waving over him. His troops then called for 
quarter, and the battle ceased. The British lost in 
all, eleven hundred killed, wounded, and prisoners; 
together with their arms and munitions of war. The 
* Vide Memoirs of Moultrie. 



314 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

excited patriots spared the English soldiers, but 
many of the Tories were strung up to the trees, be- 
fore order could be restored. 

This was a severe blow to Cornwallis, and filled 
the Tories with terror. 

The prospect around Marion was relieved now and 
then by such bright spots, and the cause of liberty 
strengthened. At length when Greene took com- 
mand of the Southern army, the sky began slowly to 
brighten. He did not, like Gates, despise such men 
as Marion, Sumpter, and others, but leaned heavily 
upon them, and, as the sequel proved, not in vain. 
He wrote immediately to Marion, encouraging and 
strengthening him. 

About this time occurred one of those incidents so 
frequent during the Revolution, and which illustrate 
the character of our people. Washington, with his 
cavalry, came upon the British Colonel Rugely, 
posted in a strong redoubt — and knowing that it 
would be vain to attack him simply with horsemen, 
ordered a pine log to be hewn into the shape of a 
cannon and mounted on a pair of wagon-wheels. 
With this he slowly and solemnly approached the re- 
doubt, and summoned the English commander to 
surrender. Seeing such a formidable piece of artil- 
lery approach, the latter concluded it would be use- 
less to attempt a defence, and yielded the post. Corn- 
wallis, speaking of it in a letter to Tarleton, very 
significantly remarks, "" Rugely will not he made a 
brigadier." 

Soon after Lee joined Marion, and the two to- 
gether made an attack on Georgetown, which was 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 3 I 5 

only partially successful. But when Greene com- 
menced his famous retreat, Lee was called to his aid, 
and Marion again left alone. He, however, did not 
relax his efforts, but with his little band, and sus- 
tained by such trusty men as Horry, Macdonald, 
James, and others, kept the Tories and British de- 
tachments in constant alarm. 

A British officer. Major McElrath, was sent out to 
destroy his band ; but Marion attacked him with such 
vigor that he forced him to retreat. The latter being 
without cavalry, was compelled finally to take a 
strong position and offer battle. But the wily parti- 
san knew too well where his strength lay to accept it, 
and coolly encamped near him, waiting until heshould 
move again. While the two forces were occupying 
this position, the British officer sent Marion a chal- 
lenge to single combat. The latter replied, that if he 
wished to see a fight between twenty picked men, he 
had no objection. The proposition was accepted, and 
all the arrangements made for this strange en- 
counter, which seemed to transport one back to 
knightly days. Marion picked out his own men; 
and, when everything was ready, addressed them in 
his usually pithy style : " My brave soldiers," said 
he, " you are twenty men picked out of my whole 
brigade. I know you all, and have often witnessed 
your bravery. In the name of your country I call 
upon you to show it. My confidence in you is great : 
I am sure it will not be disappointed. Fight like 
men as you always have done, and you are sure of 
the victory." This was a long speech for him, and 
it was received with loud shouts by those resolute 



3l6 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

men. They had no bullets, and so rammed home 
good heavy charges of buck-shot, and marched out 
towards where the British stood drawn up in order. 
Vanderhorst, who commanded this gallant little 
band, turned to Witherspoon, the second officer, and 
asked '' what distance he would prefer, as the most 
sure, to strike with buck-shot?" " Fifty yards for 
the first fire,'' he replied. '' Then," said Vander- 
horst, turning to the men, '* when we get within fifty 
yards, as I am not a good judge of distance, Mr. 
Witherspoon will tap me on the shoulder ; I will then 
give the word, my lads, and you will then form on 
my left opposite to these fellows. As you form, each 
man will fire at the one directly opposite, and my 
word for it few will need a second shot." * They 
advanced boldly, till within about a hundred yards 
of the British, when the latter, at the order of their 
officer, retreated. The Americans then halted, gave 
three cheers, and marched laughing back to their 
companions. 

That night McElrath broke up his camp, and leav- 
ing his heavy baggage behind, commenced a precipi- 
tate retreat. In the morning, Marion followed him 
— though he finally, out of respect to an enemy who 
had shown a forbearance towards the people not 
practiced by any other British officer, called ofif his 
troop. 

Colonel Watson was next despatched, with a 

stronge force, to destroy our unconquerable partisan. 

The latter boldly advanced to meet him, and coming 

up with his guard at Wiboo Swamp, immediately 

* Vide Simms' " Life of Marion." 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 317 

commenced the attack. Horry, who commanded his 
cavalry, was thrown back in disorder, which Marion 
no sooner discovered, than he cried out '' charge/' 
with such a vehement expression, that the whole 
body threw itself forward with resistless impetuosity, 
and swept the road. Watson's regulars, however, 
restored the fight, and finally forced Marion to re- 
treat. The Tory horse following up the advantage, 
were pressing with dangerous energy upon him as 
he was crossing a narrow causeway, when Gavin 
James, a man of huge proportions and boiling cour- 
age, and mounted on a powerful gray horse, wheeled 
right in front of the whole advancing column. He 
was armed with a musket, and as he turned, took 
deliberate aim, and shot the first man dead. A whole 
volley blazed in his face, sending the bullets in a 
shower around his head, not one of which however 
struck him. A dragoon rushing forward, he trans- 
fixed him with the bayonet — a second coming to the 
rescue, fell beside his companion. Awestruck at this 
bold horseman, as he thus sat on his steed in the road 
and hurled death around him, the whole column 
halted. In a moment Marion's cavalry was upon it, 
breaking it in pieces, and sending the fugitives in 
affright back to their infantry. 

He then slowly retired, fighting as he went, till at 
length he threw himself across the Pedee, and de- 
stroying the bridge, awaited his enemy. As Watson 
approached the bank, the deadly riflemen picked off 
his men with fearful rapidity ; and when he ordered 
the cannon to be advanced, so as to clear the low 
grounds on the farther side, the artillerists fell dead 



3l8 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

beside their guns. Finding this would not do, he 
attempted to force the ford, and a detachment was 
sent forward. The officer commanding it advanced 
gallantly; but as he approached the water, waving 
his sword and cheering on his troops, the crack of a 
single rifle was heard, and he fell dead in his foot- 
steps. A whole volley followed, which sent the 
thinned ranks in affright to their cover. Four brave 
fellows undertook to bear off their dead commander, 
but they all fell beside the corpse. Watson was ter- 
rified, declaring he had never seen such shooting in 
his life, — and, afraid to force the passage of the 
river, resorted to skirmishing across it. 

The next day he sent a flag to Marion, complain- 
ing bitterly of his barbarous practice of shooting 
down his pickets, affirming it was fit only for " rob- 
bers," and challenging him to come out and fight 
like a man and a Christian. Marion did not even 
deign a reply to this message, and coolly told his 
men to keep shooting both sentinels and pickets. But 
the flag did not go back unanswered — a Sergeant 
McDonald, a bold Scotchman, who had lost all his 
clothes in one of the late skirmishes, sent word to 
Watson, that he was very much in want of them, and 
if he did not give them up, he would kill eight of his 
men -as pay. The English officer was thrown into a 
transport of rage at this insolent message; but his 
fellow-officers, who knew McDonald well, told him 
that the bold dragoon would certainly fulfil his 
threat. Watson, who had been filled with terror at 
the sharp-shooting of our men, and thinking, per- 
haps, that he might be the first victim of McDon- 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 319 

aid's vengeance, actually sent back his clothes. But 
the most amusing part of the whole affair, was 
the gratitude and politeness of McDonald. He im- 
mediately returned word to Watson, that he would 
not now fulfil his threat, and instead of killing eight 
of his men, w^ould kill hut four. Whether the former 
was particularly thankful for this reduction of fifty 
per cent, or not, is not recorded, but it was certainly 
the coolest piece of impudence one could well per- 
form. To make it still worse, this fearless dragoon, 
two days after, shot an English lieutenant through 
the knee, at the distance of three hundred yards. 

At length Watson, finding he could not force the 
river, and seeing also that he had far the worst of it 
in skirmishing, broke up his camp and retired pre- 
cipitately towards Georgetown; but Marion's men 
seemed everywhere present, and the crack of their 
rifies rung from every thicket. Surrounded, and 
kept in constant trepidation, the English colonel hur- 
ried on till he reached Ox Swamp. Here he made a 
halt, for only one narrow causeway crossed the 
morass, and on that stood Marion's men, protected 
by trees, which they had felled across the road. Re- 
coiling from the encounter, Watson wheeled into the 
open pine-w^oods, and struck across the country for 
the Santee road, fifteen miles distant. He had not 
gone far, however, before Marion was upon him, 
and when the latter came up, he found the British 
infantry on the full trot in their precipitate flight. 
Falling on their flank and rear, he mowed them 
down, and but for the failure of a single officer, 
whom Horry had placed over an ambush party, the 



320 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

whole corps would have been captured. It made out 
to reach Georgetown, though thinned and wasted 
severely by Marion's rifles and heavy sabres. 

At the same time that Watson set out with his ex- 
pedition, a Colonel Doyle, with another regiment, 
marched on Snow's Island, and wasted that romantic 
encampment of the partisan leader, capturing all his 
baggage and stores. This was a heavy blow; and 
Marion, for the first time, gave way to despondency. 
Greene was fleeing northward, before the victorious 
Cornwallis, and South Carolina lay open to the 
ravages of the Tories and British, who now were 
able to concentrate all their forces on him and his 
brigade. This hardy and patriotic chief was not 
fighting for victory, but simply to do what he could 
towards keeping alive the spirit of the Whigs; and 
it is a matter of astonishment, that he was able to 
retain his irregular troops about him, under such dis- 
heartening circumstances. The storm began to 
gather darker, and more threateningly over his head, 
and his stern soul at last sunk under the accumulated 
dangers that momentarily increased. In this crisis 
of his affairs, he did not know which way to turn; 
and one day as he was walking alone, absorbed in 
thought, and weighed down with discouragement, 
Horry approached him, and said : " General, our 
men are few; and if what I hear be true, you never 
wanted them more." Marion started, as if from a 
dream, and fixing on Horry an anxious look, ex- 
claimed : ** Go immediately to the field-oflicers, and 
learn from them, if, in the event of my being driven 
to the mountains, they will follow my fortunes, and 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 32 I 

with me carry on the war until the enemy is driven 
out of the country. Go and bring me their answer 
zvithout delay/' Away went Horry, while the 
anxious chief returned to his solitary walk, and his 
gloomy meditations. The former had not been gone 
long before he returned with the joyful intelligence, 
that they, one and all, would stand by him till death. 
At the news Marion's black eye flashed with delight, 
and rising on his toes, he exclaimed : " I am satis- 
fied — one of these parties shall soon feel us/' Noble 
man — he wanted only to know that his brave troops 
would bear all that he would bear, to be himself 
again. 

Immediately after this, he turned on Doyle, who 
had just laid waste his beautiful encampment on 
Snow's Island; but in crossing Lynch's Creek and 
swamp, which were overflowing with water, from 
a recent freshet, his men, many of them lost their 
muskets, and with difficulty floundered through in 
the darkness. Nothing daunted, however, he pressed 
on, and soon came upon traces of the flying enemy. 
Destroying all his heavy baggage, and strewing the 
road with the wreck, Doyle fled towards Camden, 
impelled by the fear of Marion, and anxiety for the 
fate of Rawdon, on whom Greene, fresh from the 
battle of Guilford, was now rapidly marching. Find- 
ing him beyond his reach, Marion wheeled about, 
and set out in search of his old enemy, Watson, who 
was again in the field, and hanging darkly on his 
flanks. The latter immediately fled rapidly towards 
Camden, and Marion, with Lee, who had just joined 
him, left the pursuit, and marched against Fort Wat- 

A. B., VOL. m. — 21 



322 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

son, and invested it. But neither besiegers nor be- 
sieged had a single cannon, while the strong fortifi- 
cations rendered a storm extremely hazardous. In 
this dilemma Marion's genius, which had helped him 
out of worse difficulties, came to his aid. He ordered 
trees to be cut down, and the logs carried on men's 
shoulders, close to the fort. After dark, these were 
piled crosswise, one upon another, thus forming a 
huge cobhouse, high enough to overlook the garrison, 
into which the riflemen crawled, and waited for day- 
light to appear. Hardly had the gray dawn streaked 
the east, before the British were aroused by a shower 
of rifle-bullets in their midst. Finding their works 
thus unexpectedly commanded — and assailed in the 
meantime, by a storming party, the garrison sur- 
rendered. 

Greene's bold and sudden movement on Corn- 
wallis's line of Southern posts, had encouraged the 
Whigs, and the hardy mountaineers now came pour- 
ing in to Marion, and he soon found a respectable 
brigade again under his command. Lee and Eaton 
having joined him, he invested, by Greene's direc- 
tion. Fort Motte, the principal depot of provision for 
the British army, between Camden and Charleston. 
A fine large house, belonging to Mrs. Motte, situated 
on a high hill, had been turned into a fort, and sur- 
rounded with a deep trench, and high parapets. The 
lady herself had been driven forth, and at this time 
occupied an old farm-house near by, where Marion 
also took up his headquarters. The Americans had 
only one six-pounder, with which to batter down 
these fortifications ; but having completed the invest- 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 323 

ment, and planted their single gun, the garrison was 
summoned to surrender. A refusal being returned, 
the siege went gradually on. But before the place 
could be reduced, news arrived of the rapid approach 
of Rawdon, to the rescue. He had destroyed his 
baggage— set Camden on fire, and was now advanc- 
ing by forced marches; while Greene, anxious for 
Marion, was also straining every nerve to reach him 
first. He wrote to him to press the siege with the 
utmost despatch; but Rawdon's fires were already 
blazing on the farther side of the river, and another 
day would place him in the fort. The garrison were 
overjoyed at the prospect of their deliverance; but 
Marion was filled with the deepest perplexity, re- 
specting the next measure to be adopted. There 
seemed no alternative but to set fire to the fine man- 
sion of Mrs. Motte, within the fort— if this could be 
done, the place must surrender. Marion felt great re- 
luctance in proposing it to the lady, who had treated 
him and his oi^cers with so much kindness and gen- 
erosity, during the eight days they had consumed in 
the siege; yet there was no other course left open to 
him, and he at length hesitatingly told her so. But 
Mrs. Motte was one of those noble South Carolina 
matrons, whose virtues shed lustre on themselves, 
and glory on our cause, and not only consented, but 
seemed delighted with the prospect of rendering her 
country a service. Hastening to a private apartment, 
she brought forth a bow and some arrows, which 
had been sent from India, as objects of curiosity. To 
those arrows combustible materials were attached 
and set on fire, and thus launched against the roof, 



324 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

which rose above the parapets of the fort. A strong 
mihtia-man shot the missiles, which hghting on the 
dry shingles, soon kindled them into a blaze. The 
English commander immediately ordered a company 
of soldiers on the roof, to extinguish the fire; but 
Marion had trained his six-pounder upon it with 
such precision, that they were forced to retire, and 
the house was soon wrapped in flames. This made 
the quarters too hot for the garrison, and 
they surrendered. 

That same night Greene entered the camp of Ma- 
rion, and shook the hand of the worthy partisan with 
delight. There had been a slight quarrel between 
them, which well-nigh completely estranged the lat- 
ter. The former had sent to him for some horses to 
replenish his cavalry, which he refused to furnish. 
Greene hearing that his refusal grew out of unwil- 
lingness to dismount his militia, wrote him a re- 
proachful letter, which wounded his feelings so deep- 
ly, that he resolved to resign his commission. The 
noble-hearted Greene, both grieved and alarmed at 
the serious light in which Marion viewed his com- 
plaint, wrote him immediately a long explanation 
which healed the breach before it became widened, 
and thus secured an ally who had ever been faithful, 
and whose aid at this critical moment was of vital 
importance. 

After the fall of Fort Motte, Lee again left Ma- 
rion, and the latter, with Sumpter, was appointed to 
hold Rawdon in check, while Greene could advance 
on Ninety-Six. They succeeded in driving him be- 
hind his intrenchments in and near Georgetown, and 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 325 

then began that daring game so common with our 
partisan troops. Marion at length took Georgetown, 
but not being able to garrison it, removed all the 
stores, provisions, &c., and abandoned it. 

In the meantime, Rawdon, having received large 
reinforcements, became too strong for Marion, and 
started off to relieve Ninety-Six, as mentioned in the 
sketch of Greene. 

After the return of the former to Orangeburg, Ma- 
rion was despatched with Sumpter and Lee, and 
others, to the South, and succeeded in driving the 
enemy within the gates of Charleston. 

AFFAIR AT QUIMBY'S BRIDGE 

Sumpter and Marion then advanced to Monk's 
Corner, where Colonel Coates was posted with six 
hundred and fifty men. Watboo and Quimby Creeks 
lay between him and Charleston, and the destruction 
of the bridges over them would effectually cut off his 
retreat to the latter place. Failing to destroy that of 
Watboo in time, Sumpter, Lee, and Marion pressed 
on after the retreating column, hoping to overtake 
it before it reached Quimby Creek. On going a 
little distance, they discovered that the cavalry and 
infantry had separated, and taken different routes. 
Hampton, therefore, pressed on after the former, 
while Lee's and Marion's cavalry gave chase to the 
latter, and came up with the rear-guard about a mile 
from Quimby Creek. " Front rank, bayonets ! sec- 
ond rank, fire! " fell in startling distinctness on the 
squadron, but the next moment the fierce horsemen 



326 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

were riding through the broken lines, and without a 
musket being discharged, the whole rear-guard sur- 
rendered. 

But Coates, with the main body, was already over 
the bridge, and drawn up on the farther side, waiting 
for the baggage to pass before he threw the planks 
into the water. They had all been loosened, and 
needed but a slight touch to cast them off, while 
a howitzer, at the opposite extremity, commanded the 
passage. 

This was the position of things, when the Ameri- 
can cavalry was seen sweeping along the narrow 
causeway leading to the creek. The rear-guard hav- 
ing surrendered, without firing a shot, Coates was 
ignorant of the disaster that had befallen him, and 
hence was not fully prepared for this sudden onset. 
He, however, ordered the men to throw off the 
planks, and his troops to form in order of battle. 
Captain Armstrong, who led the first section of the 
pursuing cavalry, halted, as he saw the preparations 
made to receive him, and sent back word to Lee to 
know what should be done. In the hurry of the 
moment he forgot to state the new position of things, 
and hence received in reply the order, " to fall on the 
enemy at all hazards/' A terrible expression gath- 
ered on Armstrong's brow when he heard it, and he 
leaned fiercely over his saddle-bow for a second — 
the next instant his powerful horse sprung, with a 
terrible snort, into the air, as the spurs sunk deep in 
his sides, and " Legion cavalry, charge ! '"' rang back 
in a voice of thunder, and away went those bold 
riders like a rattling storm. The bridge creaked and 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 327 

shook under their headlong gallop, and the loose 
planks flew like shingles beneath the feet of the 
horses, leaving huge gaps as they passed. Up to the 
howitzer, and over it, they swept with one wild shout, 
and had the rest of the cavalry followed, the victory 
would have been complete. Carrington, with the 
second section, boldly leaped the chasm after Arm- 
strong, but the third faltered, and stood shivering, 
when the first section of Marion's cavalry came up, 
and bursting through the reluctant company without 
stopping to think, cleared the bridge. 

In the meanwhile Lee, with the rest of the legion, 
arrived ; but Armstrong's cavalry had thrown off so 
many planks in their fierce passage, that he was com- 
pelled to stop and replace them. This settled the fate 
of the day, for Armstrong, finding himself unsup- 
ported, and with only three sections of cavalry op- 
posed to the whole British army, dashed through the 
discomfited soldiers, and wheeling into the woods, 
went off on a tearing gallop. 

Coates immediately retreated to Shubrick's planta- 
tion, and made a stand. Sumpter, Lee, and Marion, 
though outnumbered two to one, followed on, and 
came upon him, with his troops drawn up in square, 
in front of the house. This was four o'clock, and 
the battle immediately commenced, and lasted till 
dark. Marion's men showed their training in this 
engagement, and fought with the coolness and steadi- 
ness of veteran troops. Fifty were killed or wounded 
in the action — every one of them belonging to Ma- 
rion's brigade. 

Sumpter finally withdrew; — not because he was 



328 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

beaten, but from want of ammunition. He had not 
managed well, or the whole British force of six hun- 
dred would have been captured, and the bloody battle 
of Eutaw in all probability prevented. He and Ma- 
rion separated after this — the latter operating on the 
Santee. While here, he heard that Colonel Harden, 
at the Pon-Pon, was sorely pressed by a British force 
of five hundred men ; and taking with him two hun- 
dred picked soldiers, started off to relieve him. With 
his accustomed secrecy he stole across the country, 
and passing through the lines of the enemy's com- 
munication twice, at length — after marching a hun- 
dred miles — came up with the British near Parker's 
ferry. Placing his men in ambush in a swamp, he 
sent forward fifty of his swiftest horse to decoy 
them to his place of concealment. Major Frazier, 
who was wholly ignorant of Marion's approach, took 
the company for a part of Harden' s force, whom he 
was after, and ordered his cavalry to charge. On a 
full gallop, and with loud shouts, they came thunder- 
ing over the causeway after the flying horsemen, till 
they approached within fifty yards of Marion's rifle- 
men, when a deadly volley received them. Wheel- 
ing, they attempted to charge the swamp, but a sec- 
ond volley made them recoil. They had now got 
fairly into the lane made by those marksmen, and 
there was no retreating. They therefore pushed on 
through it towards the ferry, taking the fire as they 
passed. The infantry followed, and there seemed 
not a chance of escape to the British army; but at this 
moment Marion's ammunition gave out, and he was 
compelled to order a retreat. A little more powder, 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 329 

and a few more buck-shot, and the whole would have 
been captured. He had effected his object, however 
— relieved Harden, and thinned terribly the British 
cavalry. He then turned back, and by rapid marches 
succeeded in reaching Greene just before the battle 
of Eutaw — thus, in six days' timCj fighting one hat- 
tie , and marching two hundred and fifty miles. At 
Eutaw he commanded the right of the South Caro- 
lina militia, and led them nobly into action. He 
fought like a lion on that bloody day ; and when the 
British army retreated, followed swiftly on their 
flying traces, dealing the rear-guard heavy blows in 
the chase. 

When Greene retired to the high hills of Santee, 
Marion repaired to Santee river swamp, where, after 
having cleared an open space in the cane-brakes, he 
erected huts for his men. Here he was taken sick, 
but it did not keep him idle. He was constantly on 
the alert, and from his sequestered spot in the 
swamp, learned everything that was going on about 
him. Those rude huts, thatched with cane, looked 
lonely and wretched enough in the evening sunlight ; 
but at the blast of a single bugle, they would pour 
forth as hardy and determined warriors as ever 
raged through a battle. 

With the commencement of winter his brigade be- 
gan to increase, and he again took the field. But 
after some little success, the mountaineers returned 
to their homes, leaving him weak as before. He, 
however, co-operated with Greene, till that able gen- 
eral drove the enemy into Charleston. 

The field soon after being left clear, he made over 



330 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

his brigade to Horry, and hastened to Jacksonbor- 
ough to take his seat in the Assembly, of which he 
had been elected a member from St. John's, Berkley. 
This was in 1782; but while doing his duty as a 
legislator, his brigade came very near being wholly 
destroyed. The British, taking advantage of his ab- 
sence, had sent out a detachment against it, which he 
no sooner heard of, than he hastened back and ar- 
rived in time to save it, though beaten in the en- 
counter. He continued to overawe the Tories, till 
called by Greene to head-quarters near Charleston. 
With his departure, the disaffected again took up 
arms; but scarcely had they organized, before Ma- 
rion, who had heard of their movements, suddenly 
appeared in their midst, and awed them into submis- 
sion. Thus marching hither and thither — appearing 
and disappearing, like some wizard who has the 
power of self -transportation through the air, he kept 
the country quiet. But with the exception of a con- 
flict with Major Frazier's cavalry, which he routed, 
he was engaged in no more battles. The British 
evacuated Charleston, and the country was free. 

Marion then called his trusty followers together, 
and, amid the cedars of his encampment at Watboo, 
gave them his affectionate farewell, and returned to 
his ravaged farm. He looked mournfully over his 
desolate fields, and then hung up his good blade, and 
took the implements of agriculture. 

He was, however, soon elected to the Senate of the 
State, and there showed the same patriotism and de- 
cision he had done in defending his country with his 
sword. On one occasion, a Tory presented a petition 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 33 1 

to be exempted from the confiscation act, which had 
been passed during the war, and at that time received 
the sanction of Marion. But peace had now re- 
turned, and with it passed all feelings of vengeance 
in his noble heart, and he rose to speak on the peti- 
tion. The poor Tory turned pale when he saw the 
old partisan leader about to speak, and gave up his 
case as hopeless ; but, to his surprise, he heard him 
advocate it. " Then," said Marion, referring to the 
time the act was passed, '' it was war. It is peace 
now. God has given us the victory ; let us show our 
gratitude to Heaven, which we shall not do by 
cruelty to man." It was a noble sentiment, and 
worthy the patriot who uttered it. At another time a 
bill was introduced to exempt the revolutionary offi- 
cers from all legal prosecutions for their conduct dur- 
ing the war. Circumstances, and the common good 
of the State, had compelled them to stretch their 
power in a way that the civil law would not sanction, 
and this bill was designed to secure them against 
annoyance. But no sooner was it read, than Marion 
rose to his feet, and with his solemn black eye flash- 
ing fire, demanded to have his name taken off from 
the list of exempted officers. He said he was friend- 
ly to the bill, but he would not be sheltered by it. 
His honor he valued more than his life, and this tacit 
implication that it might not be spotless, he scorned 
at once. Said he, " If I have given any occasion for 
complaint, I am ready to answer in property and 
person. If I have wronged any man, I am willing 
to make him restitution. If in a single instance in 
the course of my command, I have done that which 



332 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

I cannot fully justify, justice requires that I should 
suffer for it/' His name was excluded, and he stood 
proudly on his unsullied honor, and challenged the 
strictest scrutiny into his conduct during years of 
civil war. 

Marion received no appropriation from the State 
for his services, though he was appointed commander 
of Fort Johnson, at Charleston, with a salary of 
about $2,500 per annum. This was a sinecure, and 
the post made on purpose for him ; but a lucky turn 
in his fortune saved him from the necessity of ac- 
cepting it. Miss Mary Videau, a lady of wealth, had 
fallen in love with our hero, though fifty years of 
age. The latter was slow to discover it, but when he 
did, proposed and was accepted. 

Retiring to his plantation, he lived happily with his 
bride, though she, too, was getting into the '' sere 
and yellow leaf." In the hot summer months, he 
would take his old camp-bed and cooking utensils, 
and repair with her to the mountains. Thus he lived, 
honored by his country, and loved by all; and at 
length, at the age of sixty-three, surrendered his soul, 
without fear, into the hands of his Maker. He de- 
clared himself a Christian — a firm believer in all the 
great truths of religion. 

Thus passed away this strange and noble man ; but 
his memory lives, and the name of " Marion " will 
ever thrill the hearts of our youth, and nerve the 
patriot, in every age, to strike for freedom. 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 333 

HIS CHARACTER 

In personal appearance, Marion presented a strik- 
ing contrast to most of the officers in our army. It is 
a curious fact, that the generals of the highest grade, 
in both armies, during the Revolutionary war, aver- 
aged nearly two hundred pounds in weight. But 
Marion was a very small man, and of diminutive 
proportions every way. He was not only short, but 
remarkably thin. His countenance was swarthy, and 
grave in its expression, and his eye dark, solemn, and 
poetic. Extremely plain in his dress, and with still 
plainer manners, he did not strike a stranger very 
favorably. Reserved and silent, he seldom spoke, 
except when necessary, and then expressed his 
thoughts in the most direct and simple language he 
could command. These peculiarities increased the 
mystery which his actions threw around him, and 
doubtless added much to the influence he held over 
his band. Cool and quiet, he went on the most des- 
perate missions without excitement — as calmly 
stormed through the fight, and then, in the same 
composed manner, drew off his men to their dark and 
lonely encampment. He seemed utterly destitute of 
passions. He possessed neither revenge, nor thirst 
for glory, nor love of excitement, nor desire of 
money or power. He showed no fondness for the 
table, but was abstemious as a hermit. Even the 
women had no influence over him ; and he moved 
amid the turbulent scenes around him, like one whose 
mind is wholly absorbed on one great object, yet to 
be accomplished. Drinking his vinegar and water — 



334 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 

enough to keep any man thin — eating his coarse 
hominy, or rice — with the trees for his shelter, and 
the swamps for his retreat, he fastens himself upon 
our affections and interest, with a firmness nothing 
can shake. 

Living in lawless times, and among rough and 
boisterous men, he retained all his delicacy of feel- 
ing, refined tastes, and scrupulous virtue. Moving 
in an orbit of his own, he, like Washington, was be- 
yond the influence of others, and seemed free from 
the common frailties of men. 

Without pay — without even the hope of victory — 
hunted from swamp to swamp, and chased the length 
and breadth of his State, he still struggled on to 
keep alive the waning flame of patriotism in the 
hearts of the inhabitants. Binding his men to him 
by love, rather than by commands, he would let them 
disband to their homes, with no security but their 
single promise to return. Ytt that promise was 
never broken; and the love those stern hearts bore 
him, is one of the most touching incidents in his 
career. 

As a partisan leader Marion has no equal. One 
cannot point out a defect in him, nor suggest a single 
good quality which he did not possess. To sleepless, 
tireless vigilance, he added an energy and perse- 
verance that nothing could shake; and to bravery, 
which never deserted him, a prudence unmarred by 
a single rash act. Provoked into no haste, beguiled 
into no procrastination, undated by success, undis- 
couraged by defeat, he baflled every plan of his pur- 
suers to take him, and kept the field in the very midst 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 335 

of his foes. For a long time, the only patriot who 
dared to lift the standard of freedom in his native 
State, he became the object against which the British 
directed all their efforts. Yet they never disbanded 
his corps, or broke his power. The name of Marion 
became a spell- word with which to conjure up the 
Republicans, and frighten the Tories. Seeking the 
recesses of the swamps by day, and stealing on his 
foes, like the panther, by night, his swift horsemen 
came and went like the invisible stroke of fate. No 
precaution could escape his penetrating glance, and 
no concealment furnish security against his deadly 
rifles. He seemed omnipresent to the enraged, ter- 
ror-stricken loyalists; and when they deemed them- 
selves safest, he was often nearest. And yet, not a 
vice sullied ** his ermine character." No ferocity 
was mingled with his courage, and no cruelty accom- 
panied his fierce onsets. Neither the barbarity of 
his enemies, nor the treason of his friends could pro- 
voke him to injustice — even the clamors of his own 
followers were unable to swerve his just soul from 
the path of integrity. Given to no excess, he asked 
no share of the plunder, and never used the power 
he possessed to gratify a single selfish passion. 

His patriotism was pure and lofty as his character ; 
and for his sufferings and losses he neither asked nor 
expected remuneration. His country he loved better 
than his life, and liberty was dearer to him than all 
things else on earth besides. Wealth, rank, ease, 
safety, all sunk before his country's claims, and he 
seemed to aim at nothing but its interests. His like 
is seldom seen. 



336 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY ''^■' ' 

His followers were worthy of him. Bold, fearless 
— true as steel in the hour of danger, they closed 
round him with a faith and devotion that excite our 
admiration, and claim our love. 



t>~^^ 



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